


Dragon Become Age

by errantwheat



Series: Dragon Become Age Stuff [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Canon Typical Violence, Did I say some angst I meant a lot of angst, Dragon Age!AU, It’s because I fucking love fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Some angst, This may be an actual multichap but it may just be a series of drabbles we’ll see, Time to bump up that rating babey, and a little bit of hurt/comfort, i never write these idiots falling in love it’s either before or after, what else do i tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantwheat/pseuds/errantwheat
Summary: Y’all wanted me to write dragon age!au so I did :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this bullshit. 
> 
> There’s some quick, extremely vague allusions to the concept of rape toward the end of this, shouldn’t be anything triggering, but please read responsibly! The rest of it is fun and fluff I promise.

“The hell is this about?”

Gavin already kind of guessed what this was about and he didn’t fucking like it. He’d been summoned to the Knight-Commander’s office, inconveniently high up in the tower. After all these years Gavin should have gotten used to it, to stomping up and down endless spiral staircases in heavy ass armor, but he couldn’t help complaining inside even now. It put him in a shit mood if he had to do it more than expected. Everything else about this scene was shit mood material as well.

He’d look around the room and think about how well organized it was, how that suited Knight-Commander Fowler, how he wished his room had a window like the Commander’s office did, but the figure standing effortlessly straight in front of the commander’s desk thoroughly distracted him. Gavin recognized him.

He called himself Nines, whatever he fuck kind of name that was. He was one of the Grand Cleric’s pets, a pair of twins the priestess frequently borrowed to do her bidding. Gavin didn’t fucking like them. This one in particular. The other brother was tolerable, he kept to himself, but Nines walked around the tower like he fucking owned the place just because some higher-up let him go outside sometimes. He had this bitchy, condescending air about him even just standing here.

So Gavin could guess from Nines’s presence what he was doing here. He’d been given some chore to do, and Gavin was gonna be his babysitter.

Because Gavin was a templar, and Nines was a mage.

Mages were dangerous, unstable, particularly susceptible to demonic possession and capable of singlehandedly razing whole villages to the ground. They were rounded up as soon as their power started to show and brought to one of these towers, called Circles of Magi, as though they were some kind of organization. Really they were prisoners.

And the templars were their jailers. The Chantry’s holy knights in shining armor, imbued with magic suppressing abilities. They guarded the mages, hunted them down when they ran off, and killed them when they lost their shit and turned to blood-magic and summoning demons.

“You might have noticed we have an apostate problem.” the Commander sounded exasperated, it was sort of his usual state of being, and Gavin’s crass disposition rarely brightened anybody’s day.

Apostate was a fancy word for a mage outside the Circles. A run-away. The patrol schedule was more rigorous than it’d been in years because so many mages had been escaping recently, from this tower and others all over. There’d been whispers lately of some sort of secret rebellion. The templars were ordered to tell off any mage they overheard talking about it, but they’d gossip about it in the dining halls themselves.

It was apparently such a big deal that the Grand Cleric was trying to muscle in. Come to think of it, Gavin hadn’t seen the other twin, Connor, around in some time. Connor was a way more fucking reasonable name.

“So all that rebellion talk is true?” Gavin glanced over at Nines suspiciously. What the hell was the sense of involving mages in controlling a situation like this? Surely they couldn’t be trusted to work against their own kind. The Grand Cleric had to get that, of all people. The Chantry were the ones peddling the whole ‘magic is evil and mages can’t be trusted to govern themselves’ narrative in the first place.

Nines didn’t look back at him, it pissed him off a little.

“That’s under investigation, and above your pay-grade, Reed.” The Commander pushed a leather roll across the desk, unfurled to reveal four vials. “All you need to be concerned with is keeping the situation here under control. A few of the mages we’ve lost in the last month neglected to get rid of their phylacteries. You’re going to track them down. Hopefully if you find these four, the rest might be with them.” The Commander paused and gave Gavin a warning sort of look before proceeding with, “the Grand Cleric has requested that you take Nines with you.”

Clearly the look was meant to imply that Gavin should keep his mouth shut and nod yes sir, but he couldn’t help himself. “What, does she think we can’t do our fucking jobs?”

“Given the circumstances, that is precisely what she thinks,” Nines replied instead of the Commander. He chose to investigate the phylacteries rather than look at Gavin. His voice was sharp and smooth as steel and it still grated on Gavin’s fucking nerves.

He was about to spit out some scathing retort but the Commander cut him off.  
“We’re eager to show her grace that our templars are prepared for anything. We will right this situation.” He was looking at Gavin again, eyebrows raised. Gavin liked this whole fucking thing even less now. Not only did he have to look after some pretentious mage, but he was being, what, tested? Like this was somehow his fucking fault?

He managed to grit out a “yes, Knight-Commander.” Better that he didn’t put his foot in his mouth and give Nines anything to criticize. Gavin could just fucking imagine the self-satisfied tone he’d take. It made his guts twist to even think of it.

The Commander clenched his jaw and then nodded to Nines. The mage turned and left wordlessly- did he have to move like that? Did he do it on purpose, was it fucking magic? Who told him he could be handsome and more graceful than the empress of fucking Orlais? Didn’t they know it would go right to his head?

The moment the door shut the Commander sighed. Gavin almost felt a little bad for him. This whole shitstorm was hitting him hardest as their leader, the Chantry had to be breathing down is fucking neck. He always looked tired, but it was worse this last month. He was old, too, he had to be nearly ready to retire. Gavin secretly hoped he wouldn’t till he’d climbed the ranks a bit himself, enough to take the old man’s spot. Knight-Commander Gavin Reed, that didn’t sound so bad. At times like these he didn’t envy the Commander quite so much, though.

“I know you aren’t happy-“ the Commander stopped and peered at Gavin, expecting him to interject. He was gonna, his mouth was open. He snapped it shut and ground his teeth instead. “If it makes you feel better, I picked you cause I know you’ll take this seriously. We need someone to represent us well and get shit done, understand? It’s an easy job, but an important one.” Now that just wasn’t fair, appealing to Gavin’s pride like that. He nodded begrudgingly.

From his desk the Commander produced a little wooden box. It was a kit for mixing up lyrium potions. Lyrium was what gave the templars their ability to disrupt magic. They were only supposed to have one dose every day, but sometimes, maybe more often than sometimes, Gavin had just a little more, for energy on night patrols or early mornings. Older templars always warned them to take it easy on the stuff, to go days without it if they could handle it, too much would fuck them up later in life. But too little felt like shit.

“This should keep you fixed for four weeks, try to make it last. Shit’s getting expensive. You didn’t hear this from me, but somebody’s been hitting dwarven lyrium caravans. There’s a chance it might be the fuckin’ apostates. If they are getting organized- and I’m not saying they are- it’s important that you bring these ones in before they catch up with the rest of the pack, and Reed-” Fowler gave him another serious look. This one was more a glimpse of the commander he was when he was younger, way before Gavin joined up. He still carried his authority well, but it looked heavier these days. “If, maker forbid, you happen to stumble upon a whole hive of mages hellbent on overthrowing our world fucking order, you come right back here and tell me. Do not get in over your head, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Knight-Commander.” Gavin replied. Honestly, he wasn’t fucking dumb. The Chantry made damn sure of that. Templars were just as educated as your average aristocrat. He knew how numbers worked. One of him against a shit ton of mages, he’d be demon food in a second.

“Good,” Fowler said, satisfied, and then he slid one more object across his desk. It was another phylactery that he tucked in with the rest. “That belongs to your new friend. Maker knows why the Grand Cleric thinks she can trust a mage, especially with something like this.” Gavin was glad they were on the same page there, it made him feel better. “You keep your guard up. She favors those boys for a reason, they’re dangerous.”

Gavin wasn’t sure dangerous was what came to mind when he looked at Nines. He was tall, but not physically imposing. Too pretty. Just thinking of his stupid face pissed Gavin off. He saluted his commander, gathered his stuff, and left to go pack his shit. Maker, so many stairs.

He didn’t see Nines around. Maybe if he was quick he could sneak off without the bastard. He shouldn’t, but it was fun to imagine.

Most of the templars lived in barracks on the lower floors of the tower, above the mages’ dormitories. Women on one side of the hall, men on the other. Higher ranking knights got their own private quarters. None of them had much in the way of personal effects, just clothes really.

There was a cat lounging on Gavin’s bed. He recalled one of the Knight-Captains telling them to shoo the cat out if they saw it, but nobody wanted to. Gavin had blasphemously named it Meowferath, after their messiah’s shitty husband. In hindsight, it was a discredit to the cat, he seemed perfectly nice. Maferath was just the easiest name from the Chant he could make a cat pun with. Tina liked it. He figured he ought to say goodbye to Tina before he left. He gave Meowferath a scratch behind the ears before crossing the hall to the women’s barracks, and then he climbed the bloody fucking stairs, because she wasn’t there so the mess hall was his next guess. He wasn’t gonna climb up and down this whole tower to find her, no fucking way. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Gavin found her outside one of the tower’s many libraries, sitting against the wall next to a little kid. He had to be about four, it made Gavin feel. Bad. He didn't envy the templar that had to lead that kid away from his mom and dad because some nosy neighbor saw him sneeze a fireball or babble at whisps. Maybe his parents turned him in. Maybe he accidentally burned his house down. That happened sometimes. No alternative made Gavin feel any better about it. Where kids were concerned, he tried to tell himself they were better off here in the Circle. They could learn how to control what the Chantry called their curse.

“This brave little man just had his blood taken for his phylactery.” Tina explained cheerily as Gavin approached. “We were just about to go get dessert, any recommendations, Ser Knight?”

Tina Chen was one of the good ones. That couldn’t be said for every templar. Loyalty meant more to the order than character. Tina had both.

“Ever had ice cream? Only good thing Orlesians ever came up with.”

Tina chuckled and got to her feet, then noticed the bag Gavin was carrying.

“going somewhere?” She asked, helping the kid to stand and then hoisting him up onto her shoulders.

“Yeah, uh...” he probably shouldn’t talk about apostates and rebellions and shit in front of a little kid, right? “Some silly mages got lost, gotta go find em before a dragon eats them or something.” Nailed it.

Tina nodded, still smiling, but there was something grim in her eyes.

Things between them had actually been kind of weird lately. Tina was a good one, sometimes too good. She got friendlier with the mages than they were really meant to. In the event that their charges were compromised, the templars had to do what was necessary, with no mercy or hesitation. Tina didn’t care much for all of that.

There was one woman in particular that could often be found chatting with Tina wherever she happened to be standing guard. That woman wasn’t around anymore, she’d run off with some other mages two weeks ago.

And Gavin wouldn’t ever accuse Tina of helping them, but he couldn’t help wondering. She was unusually touchy about the subject, too. They gossiped and talked shit all the time, but not about those particular apostates. Maybe she was sad, Gavin couldn’t blame her, he sucked at talking about feelings and shit too, but maybe she was hiding something. If it was true, and she really did help the mages escape, what would he do? Frankly, he’d probably deny it to the Divine herself. He was about to bring them back, anyway, so no real harm done, right?

Still, he couldn’t tell if Tina was looking at him like that because she was worried for him or for her friends. He felt kind of shitty for even wondering, shouldn’t he just trust her? Tina was kind of his only close friend, that was important to him.

She planted a fist firmly against his chest, then reached up and made a mess of his hair, her go-to gesture of affection. He felt a little better. “Watch yourself out there, hot-shot. We’ll let you know what we think about ice cream when you get back.”

And then she trotted off. He could hear her explaining to the kid that dragons didn’t care to eat templars, because their armor was too crunchy.

One of the stable hands had set up two horses with all the works. Nines was loitering nearby, with Meowferath the cat purring in his arms. Gavin took back everything nice he ever thought about the little bastard, he deserved a traitor’s name.

“Hello again, Ser Knight,” the mage greeted, without looking up from Gavin’s ex-favorite cat. It got right under Gavin’s fucking skin. What the hell was his problem? He sure as fuck wasn’t shy, maybe he thought Gavin wasn’t worth looking at.

He seemed like he was about to say something else, something back-handed probably, but Gavin cut him off.

“Listen up, asshole, we’ve got a couple things to sort out before we get this bullshit over with.”

Should he be antagonizing the man he was about to spend the next too-fucking-long alone with right out of the gate? The one that had the ear of his superiors, that he was supposed to be impressing? He did not seem to care, couldn’t even be bothered to finish a doubtful thought.

“I’m in fucking charge here, got it? You do what I tell you, you don’t get in my way and you don’t get fuckin’ smart, or I swear I’ll drag you back here in shackles with the others. Don’t complain at me either, I’m not paying to stay in an inn every night just cause you’re used to being pampered.”

The mage’s face was perfectly neutral. He was deathly still, except for his hand stroking through the cat’s fur.

His hands were as pretty as the rest of him. Long fingers, pale, smooth, unmarked.

“As you like, Ser Knight.” He replied evenly. There was that fucking voice again, like silk on his face, like a knife slitting his throat. And he was looking at Gavin now. Gavin found that he didn’t prefer it.

His gaze was chilling and judgmental, his voice was dismissive and just a little bit mocking. Gavin was absolutely certain in that moment he was going to break this man’s perfect nose before he made it back from this little adventure.

A phylactery was a vial of a mage’s blood. Every Circle mage had one, kept locked away in a vault below the tower. In the event that they escaped the Circle, it could be used to track them down. Gavin set the first one into a small contraption enchanted to act as a compass. The little thing would spin and glow, pointing them in the direction of the mage it belonged to.

The Circle tower was on a little island marking the northern side of Lake Calenhad. The phylactery was pointing them along the road south, toward the Hinterlands. That sounded about right to Gavin. The Hinterlands were cold, with rolling hills and dense woods full of bears and bandits. Beyond them were the Kocari wilds, half uncharted swamplands said to be cursed and crawling with Avvar tribes. Nobody but a desperate escaped mage was crazy enough to go wandering through places like that.

Gavin had grown up in Amaranthine, a port city to the north. It was warmer there, but not nearly as warm as the Free Marches across the sea where his mother was from. Templars made more gold than ship hands, so he’d left with the recruiters that came through every few months the day he was old enough. That’s what he told everybody, anyway. It was part of the truth. Everybody had their reasons for joining the Order.

It occurred to Gavin that he didn’t know where Nines was from, or anything about him really. How young had he been when the templars brought him and his brother to the Circle? Gavin didn’t really care to know, he was determined to hate the man, but they’d been on the road now for almost half the day and he was getting fucking bored.

“Ever been this far from your castle, prince bitch-face? Where are you from, anyway?”

“I’m not inclined to tell you, peasant.”

“Fucking excuse me?” This mage had already won the title of asshole the fastest to piss Gavin off. Now he was just trying to break his own record. He must be bored too.

“You called me a prince first.” Nines offered almost innocently. He was nearly smiling. Gavin didn’t want to see a smile on his face. He didn’t need the bane of his fucking existence to get any prettier.

“My fuckin’ mistake, your highness, thought you were the type to lose your shit over the chance to talk about your fucking self,” Gavin snapped, suddenly very disinterested in talking.

“Yes, you seem to have a number of thoughts about me. It’s good to know the lyrium hasn’t limited your capacity, I suppose.”

“Oh I hope I just fucking misheard you, you overrated little-“ Gavin was ready to hop off his horse and strangle this pompous fucking bastard, but in the corner of his vision he caught sight of a bigger problem.

The Imperial Highway was an ancient stone land-bridge, it was how most Fereldens crossed their cold and wild land. Ahead of them, crates and wagons crowded either side of the road, leaving a single, narrow path. Nothing looked official about the men manning this barricade, as far as Gavin could see. Bandits, then.

“We should back up and go around,” Gavin said, stopping his horse.

“And let them carry on like this, terrorizing innocent people? Where’s that legendary honor and courage, Templar?” Nines proceeded forward, and Gavin reluctantly followed.

“I’m not playing fucking games with you anymore, asshole, it would be stupid to fuck with them, we don’t know how many-“

“It doesn’t matter how many they are.” Nines said it so matter-of-factly it was almost fucking chilling. Dangerous, the Commander had warned him.

“What do you think you’re gonna do, kill them all?”

“I thought we’d start with asking them to cease politely and proceed from there.”

Delightful, Gavin was stuck with a crazy murderous asshole mage. This was great. This was perfect.

Part of him did kind of want to get rid of these goons. And part of him, way deeper down, wanted to see what Nines could do.  
He made sure he pulled ahead of the mage as they approached, because he was still the fucking boss here.

One of the bandits hopped to attention as they drew near, tossing a shiny helmet on his head and snatching a spear from where it was propped beside him. Gavin looked around warily. He could see three more perching on the blockade, but he was certain there were others concealed behind it.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” the fellow with the helmet greeted, “King’s collecting a toll on this road. It’s 50 sovereigns to pass here.”

“50, Maker, who do I look like, the arl of fuck all?” Gavin kind of liked the nervous glance the bandit gave him. A templar was probably one step away from a royal soldier, as far as he was concerned.

“Other forms of payment are accepted of course, good Ser. You’ve got awful fine horses, fine armor... and fine company.”

Gavin didn’t like how that sounded. Not even a little.

“I bet you couldn’t even fucking name the king. Hauling you off to the nearest town to be jailed is too much work, just clean this shit up and piss off.”

This was absolutely going to come down to a fight, he could already tell. Their little frontman was sizing him up, a couple more bandits were emerging from the barricade, he counted seven now. Hopefully if they took out a couple the rest would get wise and run.

They were on horses, that gave them an advantage. The fellow with the helmet was clearly the boss, he’d rush them first and the others would follow. His hold on his spear was awfully clumsy, he must have just picked up whatever he could find. There was at least one archer, that might prove problematic. Was there some way they could use the terrain to their advantage? Maybe if they rushed through, the archer would have to reposition, and-

And they were floating. The wagons, the loot, the bandits, all suspended helplessly in the air.

“What do you recommend, Ser Knight,” Nines hadn’t even moved, he was just regarding his victims with casual interest. A cat with a whole nest of mice. “Should I drop them in a pit of flames? Turn them into frogs? Conjure a dragon to eat them?” He was having fun, the sick bastard.

Alright, so maybe it was a little funny that these tough bandits were floating around howling like babies.

“Aw put em down, I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

Nines shrugged, and the bandits fell back to the earth. And then, piece by piece, so did their barricade. The men shouted and scattered to avoid the falling debris. It hurt a little to watch those perfectly nice wagons and crates of goods shatter on the ground. Hopefully somebody more wholesome would come back and reclaim the stuff.

“After you, Ser Knight,” Nines gestured to the road ahead of them, now relatively clear. He didn’t even look a little drained. Using magic was supposed to be taxing, and lifting whole ass wagons couldn’t be easy. Gavin wondered how long he really could have held everything up like that. He had managed to learn something about Nines, at least. He’d learned that the mage was dangerously talented, and reckless.

Mages did have their uses, that couldn’t really be refuted. They could toss bandits around like rag-dolls, apparently, and light campfires with peerless efficiency.

Gavin figured they had to be half way to Lothering by the time they decided to stop for the night. The phylactery was still pointing them steadily south. He hoped they’d make it to town by the next nightfall, he’d warned Nines not to bitch about camping, but Gavin wasn’t a fan of it himself. He wouldn’t complain, of course.

The shores of Lake Calenhad weren’t far from the road, surely there was a little fishing village to stay in nearby, but the sight of a mage would make common folk uneasy. It was best that they keep to themselves as much as possible.

That mage was looking mostly harmless at the moment, with his pretty little nose buried in a book. Did he notice he was worrying his lip between his teeth? He was reading by a flame burning on the end of his finger. Every once in a while he’d curl his fingers, wiggle them a little, and the flame would dance over his knuckles. The light suited him, made him look even softer. Thoroughly disguised what a stone cold bitch he was.

Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. It was his idea to get rid of the bandits, stop them from ‘terrorizing innocent people.’ Maybe the jab he’d made earlier wasn’t so far off the mark, maybe Gavin was just assuming too much about him. They weren’t supposed to make friends, but maybe this whole ordeal would be easier if they didn’t constantly antagonize each other. Of course, Gavin was too proud to call a truce himself. A little conversation couldn’t hurt, though.

“Fuck are you reading? Tell me it’s not something boring,” Gavin sat himself next to Nines and leaned to examine the tome.

The response he got was not what he expected. No snark, no back-talk, Nines just glanced sharply at him, suddenly tense. The eyes searching Gavin’s face were guarded and analytical, like the words in Nines’s book had jumped off of the page and on to Gavin’s face, and it was the scary part.

“What’s that look for? What do you think I’m gonna-“ suddenly it clicked, and it didn’t feel nice.  
“Shit, do you think I’m gonna- you think I’m one of _those_ templars? Fuck, did someone-”

“No.” But Maker, his voice sounded even prettier like that, the softest Gavin had heard it. He looked a little less wary, too, but still watching, measuring.

This whole time Gavin had been thinking of Nines as a sort of adversary. He’d forgotten the fundamental dynamic between them.

Nines was a mage, and Gavin was a templar. He’d forgotten the power that gave him- but he didn’t think Nines acknowledged it either. He acted like he was above it all, was he really just as scared as the others? Gavin didn’t like that thought at all.

“Listen-“ his pride suddenly didn’t mean shit to him, this was too important, “listen, I’m not- I would never-“ he paused and scooted away a little, putting some space between them,  
“it’s my job to keep you safe, alright?”

He thought about Tina and the little mage kid. The templars were supposed to be like that. Sure, they protected the common folk from the mages, but they protected the mages from the common folk too. And from themselves. If a little kid got scared by the demons in their dreams, a templar would comfort them. If an apprentice lost control of their magic, a templar would disrupt it before they could hurt themself. Gavin couldn’t count the number of times a mage had asked for his help with something mundane but physically taxing, because they weren’t allowed to use their magic outside of an academic context.

Templars were supposed to neutralize threats to mages, not be threats themselves. Or rather, they shouldn’t be threats for no good reason. There were protocols and shit.

“How gallant,” Nines quipped, almost sounding tired.

“I’m fucking serious, you hear me? I’ll-“

Nines closed the distance between them again and pushed his book half into Gavin’s lap. “It’s a collection of myths and stories regarding the Kocari wilds. Most of it’s nonsense, but I suppose it’s interesting. Maybe it’ll be useful, if we travel that far.”

“You make bandits fly and light your fingers on fire for fun and you think some ghost stories are nonsense?”

This was the closest he’d been to Nines so far. He had freckles, just a few. His eyes were grey. He smelled a little like roses.

“Does that hurt?” Gavin asked, suddenly flustered. He gestured to the flame still burning on Nines’s fingers.

“Of course not,” Nines offered him the hand to examine. Gavin passed his fingers through the flame. It didn’t hurt, just tingled a little, like lyrium when he took it.

He understood how it worked, fundamentally. There was the material world, and the Fade. In the material world there were rules, but the Fade was a mutable dream world, conforming to the will of the spirits and demons that occupied it. Mages blurred the line between the two worlds, ignored the rules of the material. And on the other side of the coin, templars reinforced those rules. When the mages asked the world ‘why’ templars would respond ‘shut the fuck up.’

So the fire didn’t hurt because Nines hadn’t told it to.

Gavin shifted his attention to the book now, because he was starting to think about how nice Nines’s hands were again.

“Who’s this hag?” He asked, pointing to the illumination on the page. It featured an old woman surrounded by trees.

“Don’t they teach templars to read?” Oh no, oh Maker, he was smiling.

“We’re having a moment, asshat, just fucking tell me.”

Nines moved his hand a little closer to the book to see the words. “She’s called the Witch of the Wilds. Allegedly she took a lover and ran off with him from her husband,” the little flame on Nines’s finger suddenly grew, spreading over his hand. Fiery little figures formed and danced around in a circle.

“She returned when she heard her husband was dying. It was a trap, however, and her husband killed her lover and imprisoned her, so she summoned a demon, became possessed and killed her husband and all his soldiers.” The flaming figures continued to pantomime his words. The little burning woman morphed into a big, grotesque monster, snuffed out the other people, and then extinguished herself, leaving them only the light of the campfire.  
“Now she lurks in the swamps doing witch things- stealing children, cursing people, seducing men to give her daughters. Occasionally granting wishes.”

And now Gavin was uncomfortably aware of how close they were sitting again.

“Do you think it’s true?” He asked, to distract himself once more.

Nines shrugged. “It could be, I suppose. People do go missing in the wilds rather frequently, but that could be due to any number of things.”

It was true, even some templars that went chasing apostates into the wilds never made it back. Plenty wouldn’t even try it, and they weren’t often blamed for it. Fereldens were a superstitious people.

“Guess we’ll find out, if that’s where these apostates are headed.”

“Don’t be afraid, Ser Kight, I won’t let a witch eat you.” And he was smiling again, fuck.

“Drop the ‘Ser Knight’ shit, my name’s Gavin. What uh- what’s the next one about?” Thank the Maker for this bloody book.

Nines lit his lovely hand up again and turned the page.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter ! It is simultaneously rather long and too short! I’m gonna go write the next one immediately !

It was sort of nice to get out, at least. Ferelden was a cold, muddy, dangerous country, but it could be pretty. It wasn’t so bad to see something other than the same misty sunrise over the lake again.

The locals had a lot of stories about Lake Calenhad, that it’s water had curative or magical properties. They’d named it after King Calenhad Theirin, who apparently got some mages to turn water from the lake into a shirt of mail, one link a day. As long as he stood on Ferelden soil, the armor was impenetrable. It didn’t sound like complete bullshit, but Fereldens liked to glorify the fuck out of their heroes.

Gavin didn’t really consider himself a Ferelden, though he’d lived here all his life. But that was probably ‘cause the natives considered him a foreigner. If all your ancestors hadn’t lived and died on the same farm or what the fuck ever, you weren’t a Ferelden. But Ferelden’s thought drinking some fish piss out of a hole in the ground would cure their colds, so maybe that was fine.

“You never told me where you were from.”

Things were back to awkward between them. At least for Gavin. Maybe it was all in his head, and Nines was being perfectly friendly to him.

He just felt. Self-conscious.

He was too aware of everything he was doing. Could he stand this close to Nines or did it make the mage uncomfortable? How long could he look at Nines before he started to seem creepy rather than curious? He even agonized over the words he said, which was extremely unusual for him. Were his jokes funny? Did he sound smart or dumb? Did he look alright? Should he smile more or less? He didn’t want to just be silent, either, that would be boring and even more awkward. He blamed most of this on Nines, for looking so bloody judgmental all the time. Leave it to a damn mage to make him think too much.

“I don’t know, honestly, we’ve lived in the Circle as long as I can remember,” Nines replied.

He didn’t sound sad about it. That explained why he seemed more comfortable in the tower and around the templars than other mages, at least. Mages that were brought to the tower as teenagers usually hated it more than the ones whose magic showed when they were kids, because they had more to miss.

“Nobody ever told you?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever asked.” He’d done that twice now, referred to his brother as well as himself. They seemed close. Gavin didn’t see them around often, but when he did they were together.

“I bet you’re some Orlesian aristocrat’s bastards with her elf lover.”

“Oh?” That seemed to amuse Nines, damn his smile, “that’s oddly specific, what gives you that impression?”

Well, Gavin couldn’t just say ‘cause you’re pretty like an elf and all graceful and poised and perfect otherwise,’ because fuck that.

“Cause your face is weird and you’re a stuck up prude.” Nice, much better.

“How insightful. I suppose you look like the average Ferelden brute.” There he went, taking that snobbish tone.

“Ha! You’re wrong, I’m from fucking Kirkwall.”

“Oh, a Marcher, that explains everything.”

“Fuck does that mean?”

So talking to Nines wasn’t actually that hard, if Gavin gave it a moment. Maybe they were even getting along. Nobody really gave Gavin’s shit back to him except for Tina. This was almost fun.

“It doesn’t mean anything, I’m teasing you. Tell me about Kirkwall, Marcher.”

“I uh, don’t know anything about it. Never lived there.”

“So you’re an honorary Ferelden brute.”

“You’re an honorary prick.”

Nines just fucking giggled at that. It made Gavin feel nervous again.

The mage rode a horse like he did everything else, all prim and proper, perfect posture.

The Grand Cleric lived in Denerim, Ferelden’s capital city. She didn’t often visit the Circle, but on the few occasions that Gavin had seen her she’d looked just like that, all poised and graceful.

As Grand Cleric she was responsible for the Chantries and their operations all over the region, which included the Circle. The templars had to be on their absolute best behavior when she visited, armor polished all shiny, performing duties they usually half-assed or ignored. That was probably why Gavin was inclined to dislike her, but he really didn’t know anything about her personally. She seemed reserved, a little severe, but kind. Matronly, like a proper priestess.

Gavin could see how she might have had an influence on the twins.   
Which reminded him.

“Is your brother one of the apostates we’re after?” Shit, was that too direct? Too abrasive? He really didn’t want to start over from square one- no fuck that, he had a right to know the answer, he was on this mission too.

Nines didn’t seem bothered, anyway.

“Please, if my brother ever leaves the Circle of his own will, expect the world to end shortly after.” His words seemed bitter, but his tone was fonder than Gavin had ever heard it. Absolutely fucking endeared, like he was talking about a puppy or something.

“Where’s he been then?”

Nines gave him an appraising look over that. Gavin still didn’t like that look. Maybe it was just his face that made it read as judgmental.

“He was asked to assist the Seekers with an investigation.”

Seekers, fuck. Well that confirmed it. There had to be a real ass mage rebellion, what else would the Seekers be investigating in Ferelden?

They were the Chantry’s secret police, basically. Their abilities weren’t so different from a templar’s, except they didn’t have to rely on lyrium to use them, somehow. They were the elite, the best of the best.

Usually they turned up when the Chantry thought the templars weren’t doing their job. Gavin didn’t like that. He did the fuck out of his job.

“So he gets the cool mission and you’re stuck doing this shit? Guess I know who the favorite is.”

“That isn’t it at all. My brother is simply too delicate to deal with the likes of you.”

“So he’s an even bigger fuckin’ ponce than you are? Hard to imagine.”

Lothering was a tiny little village. It used to be bigger, but a lot of it had been destroyed during the last Blight. The people seemed to have rebuilt well enough in the years since. They made their money from farms and mills mostly, with help from the occasional merchant passing on the highway.

The village sprawled across both banks of the Drakon River and rested flush against the Imperial Highway. Quaint little houses were built in clusters on the north side of the river, nearly stacked atop one another. There were a few more mills crowding the riverside than Gavin remembered. He liked the look of their water wheels. The big windmill on the north side of town was his favorite, though. Against the setting sun, it looked all fucking quaint and picturesque.

Gavin wondered if there were any other templars passing through town. He was admittedly kind of shit at remembering names, so he hoped not. Honestly, the fewer people they had to talk to, the better, he didn’t need any sun-baked or drunk farmers getting skittish around his companion.

“Ser Knight.”

The phylactery had changed its direction, it was pointing them east now. They had to be getting close.

“Gavin.”

Some people were unaccustomed to hearing their own name. Maybe they didn’t like their names, or called themselves by something else, or just didn’t hear them often. Those people might feel disoriented upon hearing it; an empty, sometimes resentful confusion. Gavin wasn’t one of those people, but he felt like he was when Nines said his name. He stopped and looked back at the mage, several paces behind him— he hadn’t noticed Nines had stopped.

Nines nodded toward town, thank the fucking Maker, and Gavin looked that way instead. This was much easier than confronting how bloody pretty the mage was in the twilight. Every fucking light suited him, the bastard.

The sun was just setting and yet the streets were already empty. Not one guard, not even a beggar or a shambling drunk was in sight. There were no lights in any windows. No birds on the rooftops, no hounds barking.

Gavin got off his horse and proceeded on foot. He always thought a direct fight was easier. What could a poor horse do against demons, anyway? Or undead? Or any other sort of monster a corrupted mage might conjure up? Nines silently followed his lead, surprisingly.

There were signs of fighting. Scorched earth, demonic ichor, blood. The dead silence was unsettling, every crunch of their boots on the dirt road sounded out of place.

Gavin nearly jumped out of his fucking skin, therefore, when the door to the town’s Chantry opened with a rusty scream as they passed.

A templar, one that Gavin knew, leaned out of the threshold, as if unwilling to step out.

“Fuckin’ hell, Jamison, you’re lucky I didn’t throw a fucking sword at you.”

“You with a sword’s a better last sight than a demon at least, by just a little.” Gavin only remembered Ser Jamison because he had got along with Ser Jamison, and then fucked Ser Jamison, and then had quite the dramatic falling out with Ser Jamison. There was definitely a time when he would have thought if it was just him and Jamie in a deserted village possibly plagued by demons, he’d take the demons. Still, he’d even prefer Nines’s company.

Jamie beckoned them in and they followed. He looked a little worse for wear, armor all scuffed and scratched, his face tired.

They weren’t alone in the Chantry. Half the town had to be in here. Families were huddled together, some sleeping, some staring around wide-eyed, a woman somewhere was quietly sobbing her prayers.

“The fuck is happening here?” Gavin asked, hoping he sounded more sturdy than he felt. People were watching them. Some even looked hopeful, as if two templars rather than one would solve all their problems.

“Some mad fucking blood mage’s taken over South Reach. He’s been sending demons and undead into town every other night.” Jaime stopped then and turned to face Gavin, leaning close and continuing quietly, “the militia’s nearly spent, these people are fucked if something doesn’t change.”

Gavin hadn’t seen them at first, the injured. He wished he hadn’t at all, just a little.

Their wounds were definitely inflicted by a demon. Ragged claw marks and wicked burns blackened and festering at the edges. Despite how the Chantry sisters toiled over them, they wouldn’t heal and they couldn’t rest. The poor people were pale and sweating, clearly without strength left to scream.

Nines left his side and Gavin nearly hadn’t noticed, his steps were so quiet. He stood out among the people around him drastically, in his stark white coat, with his soft steady hands and calm face. Like the paintings of Andraste serenely burning at the stake.

He knelt at the side of one of the injured, an old man with three wide gashes across his chest as the most notable of his wounds. They weren’t awfully deep, but long, and persistently open and bleeding.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Nines’s right hand lit up in a brilliant blue light, and in the very same instant Jaime lunged forward and snatched up his wrist, dragging him to his feet. The light went out, was snuffed out by the templar, more like.

He didn’t look scared, as far as Gavin could tell. He was giving Jaime that look, the one Gavin fucking hated, and it was kind of satisfying to see it used against somebody Gavin also didn’t like. Maybe he was scared, and he just looked at scary things like they weren’t shit to deal with it. Gavin could respect that.

Gavin slapped Jaime’s hand away and shoved him back, planting himself firmly between the pair of them.

“You fucking touch him again and I’ll feed your ass to the demons myself,” he snapped, unflinching and unmoving when Jaime stomped closer and got in his face.

It’s not that he felt particularly protective of Nines. Jaime was just being fucking stupid, because he hated mages. And it wasn’t that Gavin loved them, but he didn’t hate them like Jaime did. That was what fucked them up in the end, if he was honest with himself. Jaime hated mages obsessively, he treated them like shit at every given opportunity. Some templars were like that, the Order didn’t really care, so long as they followed orders.

They probably would have fucking fought right then if the situation were different. If Jaime was in better shape and there weren’t scared people that depended on them watching them stare each other down. Nines has resumed his task, meanwhile. In moments the dying man’s flesh knit itself back together, purged of any infection or corruption.

He was healing them, just like Gavin had assumed he would. He didn’t know what the fuck Jaime had assumed he’d do.

“We’ll do what we can here and then go see about South Reach.” Gavin said to Jaime, but sort of to everyone.

“Alone?” Jaime scoffed, taking a step back.

“Preferably.” Nines replied flatly before Gavin could. Gavin managed to keep a straight face about it. Something sort of fond stirred in his chest but he didn’t afford it much thought.

It did sound sort of fucking mad, claiming they could carve their way through these demons alone. But it was only one mage at the end, right? How much could one mage do, even with blood magic? They had their limits too.

They could handle it. Probably.

But it would be stupid to leave these people alone to fend for themselves.

“Will they be in fighting condition when you’re done with them?” He asked Nines. He’d moved on to healing somebody else already, a girl that didn’t look older than fifteen.

“Physically, yes. Psychologically, perhaps not.” Good enough for Gavin.

“How many can you fix?”

“All of them.” He said it the same way he’d said it didn’t matter how many bandits there were.

And then Gavin was thinking about the bandits. And then he had a fucking plan.

  
The Chantry was a humble little building. Not gilded and extravagant like the one Gavin remembered standing in Amaranthine. Lothering’s Chantry was small and sturdy, built of stone and wood, with stained glass windows and twin statues of Andraste flanking it’s heavy oak door. It had survived the Blight, where nearly all the rest of the village had burned.

Gavin chose to sit on the steps outside to wait, rather than inside with the villagers.

“You should sleep.” Nines said, settling in next to Gavin. Until that moment, he’d been inside tending to the injured. “If we survive tonight, it’s best we move on South Reach in the morning. It would be ideal that you not faint.”

Gavin didn’t feel tired. He’d been helping the villagers move shit up the highway to block it, stringing bows, throwing together all the weapons and armor they could find. If he ever found himself fading he’d just take a shot of lyrium and it’d wake him right up.

“You sleep. You’ve been doing magic all fuckin’ night.” He sounded irritated, but he wasn’t really. Maybe just a little on edge. It was the lyrium, or maybe anticipation for the coming fight. If his idea worked out, they should suffer nearly no casualties. It could fuck up and then everyone would die, though.

Nines had given him a weird look when he’d suggested it. Proud? Pleased? Intrigued? Fucking weird. It made Gavin feel flustered. Nines thought his idea was good, at least. Seemed confident it would work.

Jaime didn’t fucking like the plan, of course, but that’s because it relied on magic. He could fuck off, though, Gavin didn’t care what he thought. He’d been watching Nines like a hawk all bloody evening, waiting for him to start murdering people or whatever the fuck he thought an unattended mage might do. It pissed Gavin off. Nines was his responsibility, not Jaime’s.

“I can help you to sleep, if you want.” Gavin flushed at hearing that, for some reason.

“Fuck does that mean?”

“Magic.” Nines sounded amused.

“What do you know so much magic for? Aren’t you supposed to like, specialize in something specific?”

Nines shrugged. “You can fight with more than just a sword, can’t you? If I could only read a thousand different ways to set something on fire, I’d get awfully bored.”

Something felt different. The way he was talking to Gavin felt different, the way he was sitting felt different. Easier. More comfortable.

“Using magic’s supposed to wear you down, aren’t you...are you okay?” He looked okay. More than okay, like always. And he gave Gavin’s question a soft sort of smile that got his guts all fucking twisted, it sucked. Bastard.

“I appreciate what you did earlier,” Nines said, rather than answering his question.

And fuck, Gavin was flustered all over again. “Don’t worry about it. If Jaime gives you any shit again, just deck him. He’s a pussy.”

“Jaime?”

“Ser Jamison.”

“You said Jaime.”

“Who could have fuckin’ guessed you’d be nosy, huh? Orlesian, I swear. You owe me every sovereign you’ve ever seen in your life if it turns out to be true.” Fuck, his smile was so fucking cute. He hadn’t done it since the last time they were by themselves. That made Gavin think maybe Nines was starting to like him, and he didn’t like how much he liked that.

Gavin was starting to get an itch for more lyrium. It was a scratching in his throat and a ringing in his ears, just barely there. That’s what it started like, at least. It got way worse if he ignored it for a few hours. Splitting headaches, hearing and seeing shit that wasn’t there, shaking and nausea. But he needed to save the stuff, and he’d probably had more than he should already that night. Then again, he might need the edge if things didn’t go as planned.

It must have been all the lyrium that made him sensitive to the distance between him and Nines. If he leaned just a little their shoulders would touch. That would be weird. Touching Nines for no reason would be weird, he tried to tell his buzzing mind. Fortunately, he wasn’t afforded much time to fixate on it.

A watchman came running up the road. Time to get the shit going, it seemed.

They’d arranged a barricade some way up the highway, like the bandits had. Standing on top of it Gavin could see the approaching horde. It was mostly undead and floating, ghostly wraiths, with a handful of looming shades and one tall, spindly Terror in the lead. All lesser demons, nothing too bad. They could handle this.

Nines was standing beside Gavin, watching the monsters draw near. They weren’t quite close enough yet, and it was making Gavin fucking antsy, but Nines perfectly still beside him was sort of a comfort. This would work, he wouldn’t get everybody killed.

The Terror threw back its head and shrieked when it noticed their presence, and in response the wraiths paused in their march and hurled a veritable storm of ghastly green bolts of magic at them. Gavin readied his shield and hoped the barricade would hold, but no hit ever came. Nines just waved his hand and the projectiles dissipated against some invisible barrier.

Any moment now, they’d be close enough. Gavin disliked the undead most. Even the Terror, with its long twisted body and many eyes, wasn’t quite as unsettling as a reanimated corpse.

Finally the undead were steps away from clawing their way up the barricade.

Gavin heard Nines take a deep breath beside him.

And then there was a sound like thunder but different, the sound of air suddenly displaced by something that shouldn’t exist, and the whole highway ahead of them erupted in flames.

Nearly all the wraiths dissipated immediately. The rest of the monsters thrashed and screamed, not a single one of them escaped, and Nines was tossing fireballs into the fray for good measure, anyway. They were exploding on impact, scattering the miserable creatures in every direction. Distantly Gavin heard Jaime shout “fire!” and the villagers they’d posted on either side of the highway joined the assault with arrows.

It was fucking working, undead were burning away to nothing, shades were melting, the Terror was thrashing and stumbling around.

Then it vanished.

Gavin knew exactly what the fuck was about to happen, it was like it was all in slow motion. He felt an electric tingle over his skin, and then Nines looked over at him, and he hardly got a ‘don’t you fucking dare’ out of his mouth before the mage threw him to the side like a doll with a wave of his hand.

Their barricade exploded as the Terror leapt out of the ground beneath it.

Gavin landed a safe distance away, where he could watch the debris bounce and shatter off the little bubble Nines had made around himself. He felt relieved for a second, and then the Terror smashed through the barrier with a brutal swing of its claws and picked Nines up by his throat.

The remaining few undead and shades were surging forward, and Jaime led the militia to meet them. Gavin fucking watched him pause, look at the Terror, and then charge off to swing his sword at some half dead zombies instead.

Gavin scrambled to his feet and rushed to help Nines, entirely intentent on knocking Jaime’s fucking teeth out when this was over.

The Terror screamed and it hit Gavin like a shockwave. The closer he got to the thing the harder it was to move, like stomping through water in a full suit of plate, and there was a nearly debilitating pressure on his skull.

Some templars found it difficult to get the hang of their power, to reinforce the static nature of the world. It was easy for Gavin, Tina always said it was because he was a stubborn asshole.

He just had to think, ‘no, fuck you,’ with his usual conviction and the pressure, the resistance around him vanished, and he cleaved one of the Terror’s legs apart with his sword. The demon dropped Nines and toppled over, and Gavin took the opportunity to bury his blade in its chest. The thing wailed, reached out for him, and then melted into black ichor.

The villagers were finishing off the last of the monsters as Gavin helped Nines to his feet. It wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it’d be to see the mage looking less than pristine.

“Are you hurt?” Gavin asked. He hadn’t let go of Nines yet, was holding him steady just in case.

“I’m okay,” Nines replied softly. He was giving Gavin that smile again, the sweet one that made him nervous.

Gavin hadn’t noticed the cut stinging his face until Nines touched his cheek with a glowing hand and it vanished. Then the mage did this flustered little glance to the side, Maker his eyelashes were pretty, and it made Gavin dizzy as fuck.

They just stood there, numbly clinging together, till Jaime trotted up and fondly clapped Gavin on the back.

Gavin turned and punched him before the prick even took the breath to speak. ‘Knight Templar Gavin Reed, Breaker of Noses’ should be his official fucking title, he had a gift for it.

“I saw what you did, you fucking coward! Don’t try to act like we’re good now, if I ever see you again I’ll-“

“It’s alright, Gavin,” it occurred to Gavin suddenly that he was absolutely fucked. If the mage did turn out to be a crazy murderer, Gavin was fucked, because all Nines had to do was say his name like that to take him out, no magic needed. The gentle hand on his arm didn’t help, either. What the hell had happened to him? When had it happened? Fuck. “Ser Jamison saved these people, he has represented the Order honorably. When our mission is concluded I look forward to recounting his courageous deeds to Grand Cleric Amanda. I’m sure she will be eager to reward him.”

Absolutely fucking Orlesian. Who else could make a man look so uneasy with a compliment?

“We should rest for the remainder of the night, and proceed to South Reach in the morning.” Nines continued quietly to Gavin, tugging him along to follow the villagers that had begun to trek home.

Gavin fished the phylactery from under his armor by the chain around his neck. It was still pointing steadily in the direction of South Reach. He was eager to have this over with, but it was wise to recuperate. He was hungry as fuck, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello it’s time for more dragons and ages I forgot my dice

The road from Lothering to South Reach was pretty. On one side were grassy plains and tall trees, on the other side rolling hills and ice-capped mountains. The weather was nice as fuck.

Not that Gavin was one for like, admiring scenery or whatever. He didn’t know the names of any flowers or birds or shit like that. He just really liked it when it was warm.

Maybe he was just glad to get out of town. As nice as a bed and a bath and hot food were, people fucking sucked.

They were nice, the villagers. They were alright. Just really, really grateful. How was Gavin supposed to inhale all the free food they gave him if they were thanking him every other breath? The fuck was he supposed to do, be rude and ignore them?

And Maker, Jaime hovering had been driving him fucking mad. The rest of the evening and all bloody morning he’d been lurking around and scowling, and it’d be way easier to deal with if it were all directed at Gavin, but something about the way Jaime seemed to hate Nines with a singular intensity made Gavin’s fucking blood boil.

He thought he’d get his chance to set the bastard straight when Jaime tugged him aside before they left. One errant fucking word was all he needed.

“Here. I’m all set, you’ll need these more,” Jaime said, shoving a pair of lyrium potions at Gavin. Fuck, just the sight of the stuff made him want it, he’d really overdone it the night before. It’d be fine though, he could work his way back down.

“Watch yourself, alright? We’ve had our disagreements, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt.” If it weren’t for the way Jaime’s eyes flicked over to Nines, Gavin would have felt all warm and fuzzy. Nines, who was chatting harmlessly with some of the people he’d healed. Woo, so scary.

“Get over your fucking self, Jamison.”

“Maker, anybody ever tell you your shitty attitude’s adorable? Just real charming?” Jaime was tall, and dashing and clever, and sweet when it suited him, that’s what Gavin had liked so much about him. “I’m just looking out for you, Gav. If you ever need me, I’ve got your back.”

Jaime was also paranoid with a violent temper. He had his reasons for hating mages, his scars and trauma, but that didn’t justify the kind of shit he pulled.

“I’d ask a fucking darkspawn for help before I’d ask you. Are we done here?”

“Yes, you ass, run along then,” Jaime said, giving his shoulder a fond pat.

Gavin shoved the bastard’s lyrium back at him and stalked off to Nines’s side.

Now they were marching off to go get killed maybe. At least it was pretty out. Nines was back to looking perfect.

He must be relieved to get the hell out of town too. People wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone either. They were wary of a mage, naturally, but still overwhelmingly grateful. Plus, little kids wanted to see him light his fingers on fire and all that. He was entirely courteous to them, of course.

It was becoming Gavin’s understanding that Nines was a good person. Judgmental bitch was just kind of his face, and Gavin had kind of asked for any sass Nines had given him before. What was important was that he seemed to care about people. He was a better person than Jaime, admittedly probably a better person than Gavin.

It was kind of a shame that people would always be afraid of him, then. If shit were different, if the people got a little more contact with the mages, maybe they wouldn’t be so scared. There was all this talk in the Chant about how magic existed to serve man, but it wasn’t serving anybody if it couldn’t be used. Things didn’t have to be like Tevinter, just...different.

In Tevinter, mages ran shit. They had a whole bloody parliament of Magisters, with the Archon on top. All mages. The problem with Tevinter, though, was that corruption was rampant. The Magisters would do anything, assassination, bribery, blackmail, and of course blood magic, just to get an edge over their fellow politicians. And there was still slavery there, too. Mostly elves and some humans, serving in castles, toiling in fields, or being thrown at the Quanri in Tevinter’s never-ending war with Par Vollen. Or being used for blood sacrifices by their evil masters. It was an easy place for the Chantry to vilify, one mention of Tevinter and any question about whether it was right to lock mages up was crushed.

Still, there had to be something in between. Gavin had heard in Orlais some Circles let their best behaved enchanters wander out and perform specific services for nobles and the city in general, lighting the streets with magic, healing, and parlor tricks at parties, mostly. That didn’t sound so awful.

Ferelden only seemed to afford mages any freedom when war was upon them. In the case of an invasion, or Maker forbid, a Blight, just a handful of mages would do as well as a hundred soldiers, maybe two-hundred. Gavin hadn’t counted how many demons had assailed them the night before, but it hadn’t been a force to sneeze at, and Nines alone had incinerated nearly all of them with strength left to spare. Weapons, that’s what mages were to the monarchy in Ferelden. They sure did function as that. But keeping them so locked up only made them resentful, and then they got twisted bastards like the one he and Nines were off to deal with.

The penalty for blood magic was death, or the Rite of Tranquility in some more ambiguous cases. There was a whole trial process involved, but Gavin suspected they wouldn’t be given much choice, this was sure to come down to a fight.

Seeing the Tranquil walk around the tower, Gavin would definitely pick death. They couldn’t do magic, couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t want, couldn’t dream. They could still think and research, they were incredibly rational, and they could do things like rune enchanting and alchemy, but their personalities and individuality were gone. They only cared about being useful. It was considered humane by some, mages freed of their curse without death, a rare few even took the Rite willingly. It wasn’t supposed to be a punishment, technically. It was supposed to be just for those that couldn’t ever gain control of their power, to protect them from themselves. Either way, it seemed fucked up to Gavin. Not that he could do anything about it.

“Have the flowers offended you, Ser Knight?”

“The what- oh, no.” Had he been just glowering off into space this whole time? Great, wonderful. “I’m just thinking about how excited I am to be demon food.”

“I didn’t expect you to be the optimistic sort.” Maker, the smile in his voice was fucking musical. Why’d he have to be so lovely? Maybe this is what Jaime’d meant when he’d said Gavin should watch himself. Maybe he’d meant Gavin shouldn’t get too attached to a mage. Even just making friends with them was discouraged by the Order. This wasn't even that, though, was it? They were only getting along, that was harmless. Beneficial, even.

“I’m an absolute ray of sunshine, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re something, I suppose.”

“A mage that talks in riddles, what a surprise.”

“I’m full of surprises, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re full of something, I suppose. Look, I can steal your fuckin’ comebacks too.”

“Truly, I cannot hope to match your wit.” Gavin caught himself grinning, how the fuck had this happened? He felt better, at least. A little disoriented, but not so grim anymore.

The woods were growing thicker, and rising above them was South Reach. It was a castle on a hill, surrounded by a sprawling village. The architecture was far more impressive than that of Lothering- access to the Brecilian Forest allowed for great dark wood structures. The Drakon River cut through this town as well, skirting the edge of the hill and feeding the farms outside the village walls.

Unlike Lothering, there were people around when they arrived. It was considerably less convenient, actually, because now they had to deal with shit like gate guards.

“Halt! South Reach is closed to visitors by the order of Arl Bryland. Turn back.” The fellow called from his position atop the wall.

“Arl Bryland better make an exception if he wants this blood mage shit handled,” Gavin replied. Fuck, he didn’t have the patience for this.

“The hell are you on about?” The guard looked them over uneasily. That didn’t sound right. Normally people noticed demons stampeding through their town every night. “Maybe...stay put, I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Gavin muttered, pinching his brow. Nines hummed a sympathetic little sound beside him.

The guard approached them from a side door, locking it up dutifully behind him. His armor was shiny and undamaged, with the symbol of South Reach, a cross-patterned iron gate, engraved on the breastplate. He looked a little green despite his age, and clearly nervous.

“Listen, I thought- I thought things’d been strange lately. The Arl’s suddenly closed the town and given us this curfew. Not even guards are allowed out at night. Do you really think it’s...?”

“It sounds as if the Arl has perhaps fallen prey to this blood mage,” Nines supplied evenly. It sounded like that to Gavin too. Not good.

“Look, just let us in and we’ll make sure everything’s alright.” If they just knocked this fool out and took his keys, that’d be justified, wouldn’t it?

If he sat there and thought about it for any longer Gavin was going to seriously consider it.

“Alright,” the guard conceded finally, “I’ll let you in, just don’t tell nobody.”

Gavin made some noncommittal noise of assent and followed closely after the guard, resisting wringing his fucking neck as he tried like four keys at the door before he got it open.

What he noticed first about South Reach were the trees. They were all over the place, between houses and growing out of the stone brick roads, not so many that the shade was overwhelming, but more than your average town might feature. The season had them blooming with flowers. The second thing he noticed was that everything looked perfectly normal. People were walking the streets, going about their lives.

“Somebody must have seen what the hell happens at night, if the guards aren’t even out to enforce the curfew.” Gavin muttered half to himself, looking around.

“Perhaps those that venture out at night go missing,” Nines suggested softly. The people did have a sort of nervous air about them, now that Gavin looked at them again.

The road through town to the Arl’s keep was long and twisting. Naturally all the homes and shops got fancier the closer they got, even the road and the trees seemed nicer. There were notably more humans around, as well. The few elves that scurried meekly through the crowd were probably servants. A couple finely dressed fellows had overfed mabari war-hounds plodding after them. That was another reason Gavin could never count himself a proper Ferelden, they were just obsessed with dogs.

The Chantry here was a veritable cathedral compared to the one in Lothering, though really still quite humble. It had this intricate carving of Andraste surrounded by her disciples above the door.

She was alright, Andraste. The Chantry liked to embellish, but Gavin had this pesky preference for independent thought. All she really did was lead a rebellion against the old Tevinter Imperium and tell people to be nice to each other, no more of this conquering and enslaving bullshit. Her husband sold her out and the Vints lit her on fire, then converted to her religion. Current day, nearly the whole world’s Andrastean, singing the Chant and cursing the Maker’s balls when they stub their toes.

As they drew nearer to the Arl’s castle, and a proper castle it was, Nines tugged Gavin aside. Just two fucking days ago he would have slapped the mage’s perfect hand away and snapped at him. Just quietly following after him instead was an improvement, right?

“I think it would be unwise to just walk in and demand to see the Arl. Perhaps a more covert approach should be taken...” Nines said, still guiding Gavin along.

They appeared to be circling the grounds, following a less pristine path that likely led off to servants quarters and stables. “You want to break in,” Gavin concluded.

“In essence,” Nines agreed, nearly smiling.

“People usually break in to places at night, somebody’s gonna stop us.”

“My dear Ser Knight, with your unique personality, I doubt anybody would care to hassle us overmuch.”

“I think you might have just called me an asshole, but I’m not sure.”

The door to the servants quarters was unlocked, in fact it was ajar. Now, Gavin had never been in a castle before, but he’d assumed there would be people all around, cooking and cleaning and sewing and shit like that. Instead the place was empty. The table at the center of the servant’s dining hall had some half finished breakfast and a scattered deck of cards on it. There was no sound from the kitchens, no chatter or footsteps from floors above. Just silence. It was convenient, but spooky.

Gavin held the blood-mage’s phylactery in his hand, trying not to think about the likelihood of them coming across a pile of dead servants on their way through the castle.

Beneath the expected uneasiness, Gavin felt. Wrong. This place felt wrong. The kind of disembodied wrong you feel in a bad dream. The air was heavy and electric and if he wasn’t focusing the world would tilt and warp at the edges of his vision. Templars were resistant to this sort of thing, when the veil between the real world and the Fade was weak. It drove mages absolutely batshit, though. They felt it differently, stronger, sort of like how Gavin would feel if he took too much lyrium. Dangerously empowered, precarious.

Nines seemed fine. They’d just begun their ascent of a narrow, steep staircase to the upper floors and the feeling was only growing heavier, but he seemed fine. Dangerous, Gavin thought again. It took willpower to be a skilled mage, but Nines seemed to have more than that. He had control, command. It’d be unsettling, but at the moment it was almost a comfort.

And shit was only getting weirder the deeper into the castle they got, so comfort wasn’t unwarranted. The decor got nicer, standard Ferelden shit, animal skins and horns and tapestries. Things like mosaics and gilded framed oil paintings were around, but more sparse. There was a measure of decadence, but clearly a utilitarian aesthetic prevailed. That was all fine, the blood spatters and demon goo were seriously clashing, though.

And the fucking ghosts. Gavin had to bite back whatever undignified noise his dumb brain wanted to make when the first one suddenly drifted through the wall in front of them. It was foggy and ever shifting, but distinctly human shaped, occasionally skeletal. An imitation of a figure. It just calmly floated along and passed through the opposite wall.

They encountered several more, as they followed the phylactery’s glow through the castle. They either floated in place or mindlessly followed some path only they could see. Some were silent and some warbled sounds that resembled Common to Gavin’s ears, but he could never pick out a proper word. All the while that oppressive wrong feeling was getting worse, and the phylactery’s crimson light was getting brighter.

At the end of a corridor on the third floor up there was a great wood door with a pair of snarling dogs carved into it on either side of South Reach’s symbol, wrought in iron and inlaid. The phylactery was glowing brightly and spinning now. Gavin tucked it away and looked over at Nines beside him, catching his eyes.

“Shall we knock?” Nines asked him, still looking perfectly at ease.

“After you, your highness,” Gavin replied, doing some exaggerated little flourish with his hand toward the door.

And it swung slowly open on its own. Gavin glanced quickly between his hand and Nines, expecting the mage to have a playful smirk on his face, but his eyes were fixed grimly ahead.

Before them was your standard throne room. A red carpet down the center, flanked on either side by pillars of wood, carved with intricate patterns. The iron sconces on these pillars and the crude chandelier hanging above were all still lit, but the candles were nearly melted away, in desperate need of tending to.

In the center of the room a fellow dressed in fine furs and light armor, presumably the Arl, was dancing around in a one man re-enactment of some famous battle or another, clearly out of his fucking mind. In front of him was a dias and a stout looking throne, and lounging on that throne cackling madly was a noble woman and their blood mage.

Gavin recognized the bastard- recalled him being the timid sort, always slinking around. Apparently making friends with demons really bolstered one’s confidence. Hadn’t made him any prettier, though.

“Ellis. Vertical stripes? In those colors? Unforgivable.” Nines’s voice sliced through their laughter, murdered it in cold blood. Frankly it was incredibly satisfying to witness, they were obnoxious.

“You didn’t tell me you were expecting visitors Ellie,” the lady cooed. Was she fucking bewitched or just crazy? Could be either at this point.

Ellis looked much less pleased with himself now, in fact he looked near terrified. His outfit was admittedly pretty awful, like he’d just gone through the Arl’s things and picked the gaudiest, ugliest shit he could find, he had a jeweled ring on every fucking finger.

Gavin drew his sword and stepped forward. “We’re taking you back to the Circle, asshole. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.” Sort of pointless to ask.

“Will you make them dance for us, Ellie?” The lady asked, unconcerned.

“Of course, darling,” Ellis said, drawing a knife. Gavin could see his hand shaking even from this distance.

He tried to stop it, but blood magic was tricky. It was magic rooted in the real world, blood and life had power that didn’t rely on the Fade. When Ellis slashed his palm only one demon appeared, though, so maybe he’d done something.

It was a demon of desire. Those were easily identifiable because they looked like somebody’s kinky fantasy. A purple woman with more gold jewelry than clothes, a pair of twisting black horns, a tail, and fire for hair.

They were, frankly, uncomfortably hilarious to look at, but very fucking dangerous.

“Ellis my sweet,” when the demon spoke it sounded like three people at once, a man, a woman, and something like a child but exaggeratedly high. “These people are going to kill you.”

“Y-yes, I command you to kill them first!” Ellis was clutching the wrist of his wounded hand, still trembling terribly.

The demon rolled its big yellow snake eyes and snapped its fingers and the other three people in the room either lost consciousness or died, Gavin couldn’t tell.

“It would be foolish to face you, I saw what you did to all my little pets. Sweet Ellis doesn’t stand a chance. But you two don’t look to be the unreasonable sort. Take him and allow me to remain here, and I’ll grant you a boon. Anything your heart desires,” the demon strutted closer to them and Gavin moved to stand between it and Nines. The demon was so fucking tall, and floating off the ground besides. Gavin didn’t like having to look up at it.

“Fuck your boons, you’re done hurting people.” Gavin snapped. Desire demons would fuck with you, offer you deals that always worked out shit for you in the end.

“Are you sure, Ser Knight?” Oh, Gavin didn’t fucking like that, suddenly the male layer of its spooky voices sounded uncomfortably familiar, “perhaps a taste might convince you.”

And the throne room was gone.  
It was night, and there were people all around, slaying the last of the demons and cheering and Nines was standing in front of Gavin and reaching to touch his face the lightest he’d ever felt and heal a scratch there.

But Jaime didn’t come stomping up to interrupt them the next instant. They were left to stare at each other in peace instead, while the world went on around them. Nines did his cute little bashful glance away, ‘pretty eyes,’ Gavin thought again, and the hand on his face stayed in place. It occurred to Gavin that he liked it there, that he liked Nines being this close. The mage looked at him again, thoughtfully, and then leaned in and kissed him.

It was like a dream, Gavin couldn’t control his body, couldn’t push Nines away or drag him closer, and oh, did he want him closer. But that was what clued him in, what brought him back a little, that gnawing ‘this isn’t right’ feeling. This didn’t happen, he was just dreaming. No, he wasn’t dreaming, this was some demon shit.

“Gavin,” Nines sighed his name so pretty but it wasn’t quite right, didn’t quite sound like him, “will you stay with me?”

The hands on him weren’t right either, too cold and not soft enough. And now he could see it, the demon sticking its tongue in his mouth, not Nines.

Gavin blinked hard and he was back in the throne room. He took a slash at the demon with his sword but it just danced away, chuckling.

“So be it,” it wagged a claw tipped finger at Gavin and he was promptly flung across the fucking room. He wasn’t often thankful to be wearing so much armor, but he sure was glad for it then.

“What of you, sweetling?” He heard it coo. He rolled to his feet, he couldn’t let it hurt Nines-

It was in front of the mage, drifting closer, and Nines wasn’t moving, wasn’t trying to fight. He was probably seeing some shit like Gavin had- hopefully nothing the fuck like Gavin had, sweet Maker, he wasn’t looking forward to unpacking all that later.

The demon reached forward, but when it touched Nines it cringed away instantly and screamed. It’s hands were burning, fucking melting. It fell to the ground and staggered back, tail lashing.

Gavin rushed forward, reclaimed his place between them, this time ready to deny any bullshit the demon wanted to pull, but it just kept burning. Burning and melting away and shrieking. The fiery globs of it that fell to the floor turned to black stone.

It was. Pretty fucking gruesome to watch. And not like any magic Gavin had seen.

Before it was entirely consumed, the demon started to laugh. A maniacal, haunting cackling filled up the whole chamber. “I see you now!” It screeched, waving the charred and crumbling remains of its arms at them, “I see what you are! You’re already filthy!”

And then it fell away into nothing, just a pile of cooling black stone and melted gold on the ground.

When Gavin looked at Nines the mage appeared genuinely troubled, for the very first time. Even when the Terror had had him in its clutches, he’d only looked determined. Maybe a spot offended. Now he was well and properly shaken.

“What the hell did you do to it?” Gavin asked, then he suddenly recalled the weird demon vision he’d had and decided it was best he look at literally anything but Nines. Brief glances only from now the fuck on.

“I didn’t...” he sounded so quiet, and so vulnerable Gavin just had to look at him again, if only to make sure he was still talking to the same man.

He would have said something, probably something ultimately unhelpful, but well meaning- except a stirring caught their attention.

The Arl awoke first. “Floette...?” He called, pushing himself up onto his knees. He looked at Gavin and Nines, confused, then behind him at the two on the throne. “Floette! What the hell is this?” Gavin was shit at names, and never cared to learn much about the nobility, but he could hazard a guess Floette was the Arl’s wife.

She started awake at the Arl’s shout, looked between Ellis, them, and the Arl, and Gavin could practically see the dots connecting in her head before she flung herself off of the throne and at her husband’s feet. “Oh Leo! This mage bewitched me! I’ve been living a nightmare, oh, Maker!”

Absolute bullshit. Gavin strode past them and shackled Ellis’s wrists before he woke. They were enchanted to prevent the casting of magic for a limited time, usually long enough to haul a mage back to the Circle they’d run from.

Nines was still frowning down at the remains of the desire demon and for a moment all Gavin wanted to do was take him away from here. Already filthy? What the hell had that meant?

“You! You freed us from this blood-mage’s clutches?” The lady rounded on Gavin now, finally on her feet.

“Your husband, yeah, not so sure about you, though,”

“I beg your pardon, Ser!?”

Oh, sweet fucking Maker he did not have the patience for this shit.

“I want this mage executed immediately! Guards!” The Arl stormed off to go collect whatever fucking guards he could find, they still hadn’t figured out where everybody in the bloody castle had disappeared to. Fuck, Gavin had a headache. Had he hit his head earlier? He hadn’t even thought about it. He had been to focused on protecting his currently catatonic mage.

He decided to arrange himself back at Nines’s side, just to better defend him if the guards were too quick to assume which mage needed his head removed.

The Arl looked far more collected when he came stomping back in with four of his soldiers in tow. Gavin would have objected, but he supposed it didn’t really matter how the blood mage died, and he had done a fair bit of damage to the Arl and his holdings, so it was probably within his rights.

Ellis awoke and started to panic when the guards hauled him off the throne. “Floette! Floette, my love, you can’t! You- you can’t let them kill me!” The Arlessa only cowered and clung to her husband’s arm, weeping exaggeratedly.

“Ser Knight,” Arl Bryland addressed Gavin now, straightening his coat and assuming a more lordly posture. Gavin wondered if he could remember what he’d done under the demon’s influence, and that they’d seen him dancing around like a lunatic? “South Reach is in your debt. We would be honored if you would accept our hospitality for the night, and allow us to celebrate your courage with a glorious banquet.” Gavin sure did love free food. Parties not so much, but food was good. And it would be ideal to oversee the apostate’s execution. It was a grim end, but at least they had one off the list. He tried not to think too hard about it.

“The honor would be ours, My Lord,” Nines was apparently back to his tactful self, gracefully accepting the offer where Gavin would have said ‘uh, sure’ or something. The Arlessa was glowering at Gavin over her husband’s shoulder, but he didn’t really care. One unfaithful noble lady’s ire was a small price to pay for sleeping in a castle and eating rich people food. Gavin would take that trade.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s short, but hopefully entertaining! Maybe a little enlightening? Some fun before shit hits the fan again.

Fereldens were entirely tasteless. The animal skins, the color palettes, the tacky dog imagery, it was all simply abhorrent. At least it was more exciting to look at than the drab grey stone of the tower.

There were also things in this ugly castle like feather beds and spiced wine. The Circle tower didn’t have those things either, so really, the eyesore was worth it.

“Wine this early in the morning? Yesterday wasn’t that fucked, was it?”

This was how Gavin Reed elected to announce his presence that morning. Truly charming.

“I’m told it’s good for you. Did you sleep well?” In Nines’s experience so far, the fool man was allergic to sleep. Everything he understood about Gavin was now based entirely in experience.

Gavin had...defied his expectations. From what he’d heard of the man, Nines had expected to be at the mercy of an impulsive, crass, pig-headed brute for however many weeks.

But Gavin was...sweet. And perhaps a little noble. And not an absolute dullard. In fact he might be rather clever. Tactically, at least. And he was fun to talk to, of course. His...honesty was refreshing.

“No. It’s uh, quiet here. At night I mean. Im used to...you know.” His shitty lies were refreshing also. Nines decided not to pry. Instead he poured a glass for Gavin and pushed it across the table at him.

“There you are. Perhaps if we’re drunk out of our minds by this evening, the Arl’s banquet will be almost tolerable.”

“What, you don’t like parties? Could have fooled the hell out of me.” Gavin tossed back a large swig of his wine and kicked his feet up on an adjacent chair. Distasteful. But endearing.

“I detest them. The wastefulness aside, socializing on such a scale is tedious. And just because Fereldens don’t play The Grand Game doesn’t mean there aren’t politics and petty squabbles under the surface.” Connor fared far better with such things. He was an absolute natural at The Game. They were both adept at weaponizing words and information, forging perfect politeness into a blade, but Nines lacked the patience to play it just right. Still, Amanda had insisted they learn. They were useful skills, even in navigating the hierarchies and inner machinations of the Circle.

“Sounds like you’ve been to something like this before.” Gavin was avoiding his eyes, for some reason. Once more, Nines chose not to pursue the matter.

“We accompanied the Grand Cleric on a few of her more minor public appearances.” It had thrown everyone in attendance at Arlessa Isolde Guerrin’s salon entirely off balance when the Grand Cleric had arrived with the pair of them on either arm for the very first time. Connor had been so adorably nervous. Nines still wasn’t sure what Amanda stood to gain from favoring them so publicly, she had never explained. She never truly explained anything, only pacified.

An elven servant girl was eyeing them from across the room as she made to tend to the fire place. That wasn’t so odd, a mage and a templar were an unusual, and often very unwelcome sight, especially in a place like this. But she kept glancing at them, and then around the room, and that was quite peculiar behavior.

The servants, it turned out, had been confined in the dungeon, to be fed to the demons or used as blood sacrifices. Now they were freed, and going about business as usual.

Nines chose to ignore the girl and wait. He looked at Gavin instead, and the templar met his eyes, then looked resolutely at the table.

Perhaps he was more shaken than he let on by what had transpired the day before. It had looked...bad. The way that demon died, and the things it had said. Nines didn’t understand it any more than he guessed Gavin did, but it had all been awfully incriminating. He could understand if Gavin had become wary of him as a consequence.

Perhaps it was better that way. Nines had admittedly been rather charmed by him, and it simply wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford to be distracted from the task Amanda had given to him.

The elf was approaching them now, and Gavin hastily put his feet back on the floor as he noticed her. It was difficult not to smile about it.

The girl did a quick little curtesy at them- far too hasty to be acceptable if they were of higher station, then looked around the room and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s something you have to know.”

Gavin looked back at Nines, unsure, and Nines very thoughtfully drained the rest of his glass before folding his hands on the table. He raised his eyebrows at Gavin, content to let him have the lead for the moment. He was in charge, after all.

“Go on then,” Gavin said, taking the cue and looking back at the girl.

She gave another nervous look around and then went on, “I’m the Arlessa’s handmaid. The Arl found that man, the apostate, half dead in the woods on a hunting trip. He said he couldn’t remember where he’d come from, so the Arl was letting him stay to be treated by doctors. Only...” another look around, and she produced a bundle of notes from a pocket in her apron. “The Arlessa took a liking to him, had me deliver these between them, even had me sneak him off to secret places to meet her at night. She wasn’t bewitched, she fancied him before he...well. She’s lying, that’s all.”

Nines accepted the letters from the girl and flipped through them. They were delightfully scandalous. Maker, Ellis couldn’t write decent poetry to save his life.

“You can’t let her get away with it, please,” the girl continued, “she’s just as monstrous as him!”

“You’re very brave to tell us all this. We’ll take care of it,” Nines assured her, still examining the letters, “won’t we Ser Knight?”

“Yeah- yes. Damn right we will.” The girl seemed appeased. She gave them another quick curtesy and then hurried away.

“I knew she was full of shit. Should we go show those to the Arl?” Gavin asked.

“No,” Nines arranged the letters neatly as they had been handed to him. “Even with this proof, he may not be inclined to act if preserving his marriage is more convenient. We might only cost this girl her job.”

“So you’re saying we have to force his hand,” Gavin concluded. Did he know he rubbed his chin when he was thinking? Or how terribly well a pensive frown suited him? It was simply unfortunate. Nines wasn’t so pretentious as to assume that Gavin would be a complete idiot, but he hadn’t expected him to be nearly so...acute. And he surely hadn’t expected to find it so thrilling. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Precisely. Perhaps the banquet will be fun after all...” it wasn’t exactly their business, it stopped being their business when the apostate was taken from the equation, but Nines would be dissatisfied if they left it alone. If Lady Bryland had been willing to offer her servants’ lives to a monster and let her people be terrorized for a little fun, she needed to be dealt with.

Ellis’s execution was swift. It wasn’t exactly a public affair, but a number of servants watched from a distance, poised to scurry off and continue with their work if called out.

Nines had known Ellis to be a weak-willed craven. Maker knows how he managed to pass his Harrowing.

It was a flawed and archaic manner of testing a young mage’s competence, the Harrowing. But everything about the Circle was flawed and archaic. At the conclusion of their apprenticeship, a mage would be pitted against a demon and told to resist possession, with templars standing by to slaughter them or make them Tranquil should they fail.

In any case. At least his end was quick. He was fortunate the headsman was precise.

Gavin hadn’t watched. He’d looked away as the axe fell. Once again, exceeding Nines’s expectations.

There were far too many cruel templars. They often had their reasons to fear and hate magic. But those reasons, combined with unchecked authority and the things lyrium does to the mind often made monsters of them.

Ser Jamison hadn’t even been the worst templar Nines had ever met. But then, in his presence, Gavin was always within reach. If not standing stoutly between them, like a veritable shield, matching Ser Jamison’s glares with his own. It had been touching, honestly.

A templar like Ser Jamison would have gladly watched the apostate’s head roll. But Gavin wasn’t one of those templars.

Perhaps this would all be easier if he was.

The garden at Denerim’s Chantry had been beautiful this time of year. Amanda favored the roses, often cared for them herself. She fit right in among them, in the brilliant red robes of the Chantry. It looked heavy, the robes, the headdress, and the golden chain of medals around her neck, but she always carried it gracefully. She’d probably tell them it was symbolic of carrying the sins and hopes and dreams of the people.

“Connor. Richard. Welcome, my dear boys,” she said, turning to greet them with a fresh rose in her hand.

They bowed to her in perfect sync, because they knew it amused her.

“I’m glad to see you both looking well. I’ve been hearing such grave news lately. I have a task for you two, on that matter.”

They weren’t expected to respond. She continued after a brief dramatic pause.

“Connor, you will aid the Seekers of Truth in investigating this mage rebellion. Report your findings to me.” Connor nodded dutifully in the corner of Nines’s vision.  
“Soon the templars will take measures to control the damage it has caused. You will join them, Richard. Kill any apostates you find. It is imperative that we weaken the rebellion before it becomes too great. Kill the templar they send with you as well, if they become a hinderance. Your mission is all that matters.”

These were dark commands. Nines wanted so badly to look at his brother, see his reaction, but Amanda would notice. Connor knew better than to wear his thoughts on his face, anyway.

“We won’t disappoint you, Amanda,” Connor assured her.

“I know you won’t, my dear,” Amanda offered Connor her rose and then patted his cheek fondly. “Now, shall we have tea? I want to hear all about your studies.”

Gavin Reed would surely prove a hinderance.

Things were clear and simple where Ellis was concerned, the punishment for blood magic was death. But Ellis wasn’t their only target. If other apostates were more cooperative, Gavin would surely object to killing them.

But disobeying Amanda was not an option. They had to die, or they would be brought back to the Circle, persuade more mages to their cause, and then escape again, with greater numbers than before.

And it would only be these few. They were a statement, to show the mages that deviance was a death sentence. Fewer would dare to flee once news of these unfortunate fools spread. Better a handful of mages be sacrificed than the to have the lot of them culled in the Rite of Annulment. This rebellion could grow wildly out of control and set the world aflame, there were less destructive ways for mages to rally for more personal freedoms.

Did Gavin’s superiors know of what Amanda had asked? If they didn’t, this would end terribly for him either way. Unlucky for him. Perhaps that’s what the demon had meant, perhaps it was laughing at their inevitable misfortune.

That didn’t explain why it had melted, though.

Nines chose not to comment on how Gavin flinched at the execution. Chose not to dwell on it as they left the courtyard. He couldn’t afford to continue to regard the templar so sentimentally.

He’d noticed the Arlessa hadn’t made an appearance at the execution. The Arl stood and watched his sentence passed alone. It was a mistake on Lady Bryland’s part, one he would exploit.

The guest list wasn’t awfully extensive. There wasn’t time to invite anyone of real status, and honestly, the occasion wasn’t worth all that anyway. Just the local rich and powerful, minor nobles within the city and some merchants. It was a sufficient audience.

Ferelden fashion sense was just as dreadful as their taste in interior design, however it couldn’t be faulted for its practicality. Fine fabrics, furs and jewels were mixed with bits of leather and iron armor. They were once warlords, the nobles of Ferelden, battling fiercely for their independence from the empire of Orlais. Their fashion choices were an homage to this, and in direct defiance of the Orlesian love for extravagance and decadence. It suited the nature of their homeland, as well. Ferelden was frigid and treacherous.

Nines wondered if it was a sore spot he could use to his advantage, then, that the Arl was half Orlesian. And Floette was certainly an Orlesian name, as well. He’d tuck the information away for future use, of necessary.

Gavin was already on edge and the evening had only just begun, poor thing. And he would surely be shoved into the center of attention eventually, as the hero being celebrated. Nines thought fondly that perhaps it was his turn to be Gavin’s shield instead.

After he destroyed the Arlessa’s marriage, of course. Perhaps that would be all the shielding Gavin needed.

Lady Bryland was dressed a bit more tolerably than the average Ferelden noblewoman. She seemed a fan of the silks and gold of her homeland. If only her good taste had reached the realm of love and men.

“Ready for the fun part?” Nines asked, linking his arm with Gavin’s. The templar seemed embarrassed by the gesture, but to those observing it would read ‘private conversation’ and spare them from what would surely be the first of many requests to recount the events at Lothering and the encounter with the desire demon.

Perhaps to others it might also read ‘taken,’ and poor Gavin wouldn’t be doomed to quite so many dances with bored nobles stirred by a handsome new face.

If he’d been a normal man, the Arl might have even offered Gavin a minor title and some land for his heroism, but templars could hold no such things. So he was safe from the noble ladies on the hunt for husbands, as well. This wasn’t really that sort of event, but there were always a few.

“You’re way too excited about this,” Gavin complained, letting Nines guide him along in the direction of the Arl and his wife.

They were standing around exchanging pleasantries with guests, as was expected. The Arlessa rather obviously avoided looking at the pair of them as they approached.

“My Lord,” Nines greeted, deciding that as the honored guests it wasn’t necessary for them to bow, “My Lady, I’m glad to see you well. I’d feared you’d fallen ill when I didn’t see you at the apostate’s execution earlier.”

At least three conversations around them paused. Gavin stood a little straighter at Nines’s side, fluffed up like a cat. Protective. What a dear.

“How kind you are,” the Arlessa responded, taking just a beat too long to recover, “I was only resting. I found myself plagued by such horrid dreams of that- that monstrous blood mage last night.”

Clumsy. “Monstrous? It was my impression that you found him ‘irresistible’, or did I misread?” Anybody that could see the Arlessa would recognize the horror on her face as Nines pulled her notes from his pocket, there was no denying his accusations. “Tell me, My Lady, was his performance in bed anything like his poetry? I pity you if so. Shall I read one aloud?”

“Maker, fucking spare us,” Nines was pleased to see Gavin grinning.

“The Arl should see them at least, wouldn’t you agree?” Nines asked him, he’d never bothered to let go of the templar’s arm, he only just noticed. To do so now would appear quite out of place, so he didn’t. Instead he passed the notes to Arl Bryland, who looked on the verge of outrage.

Nines did feel a little bad for him. This entire ordeal had been quite the embarrassment for him. He could save face by responding correctly to this, however.

The Arlessa watched in silent fury as her husband flipped through the stack of notes. She was routed, there wasn’t a thing she could say in her defense. Nearly everybody had their eyes on her now.

“It seems once again you have done me a great service, Ser Knight...and you as well,” The Arl nodded at Nines. “Guards, please escort the Arlessa to her quarters and keep her there.”

“Leo-“ The Lady looked on the verge of angry tears as a pair of guards tentatively began to usher her away, “I don’t regret a moment of it. I would have given every last one of you up for love, for true love.”

Bold last words. Nines watched her exit impassively.

The servant girl from that morning caught his eye across the room. He doubted any Fereldens would be so observant, but he avoided letting his gaze linger on her for too long, so as not to incriminate her, just in case.

Connor would be proud of him. Connor actually would fondly admonish him for his cruelty, he would have played it far more gently, found a way to force the Arl to act without bringing him such public shame.

Gavin seemed entertained, at least, Nines was pleased he had enjoyed the show.

“You have my gratitude, Sers. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening,” The Arl dismissed them, and perhaps subtly warned them to spare him any more scandal, before he turned and continued to greet his guests with grace.

“I don’t know what’s scarier,” Gavin began, “you with a fireball or a stack of letters. Where the fuck are the drinks?”

“This way,” Nines steered him by their still joined arms toward the table occupied by rows of glasses filled with a sweet white wine.

The rest of the evening passed without great incident. Gavin was, eventually, forced to attempt to retell the events of the past two days. His...colloquialisms had the nobles in near fits.

And Nines did manage to protect him from most unwarranted attention, though it did cost him a dance with one determined young woman from some forgettable house or another. He noted that Gavin watched him the whole time. Of course, to do so was his responsibility as a templar, only the reminder of that was...unpleasant, after all that had just transpired.

He was a templar, and Nines was a mage, and Nines should really stop having so much fun with him.

They left early in the morning. The sunrise through South Reach’s blossoming trees was lovely. Nines would ordinarily be grateful that he could see something like this, rather than little glimpses of the same sights through the tower windows. But given the circumstances, he resented the sun and the flowers a little. He didn’t feel that his freedom was worth the price of these apostate’s lives. Or Gavin’s.

Wistfully he wondered if he could get away with it. Disobeying Amanda. He wanted to.

“Fuckin’ A, next one’s pointing us further south,” Gavin groused, consulting the phylactery set in its little enchanted compass.

“Still frightened of witches, Ser Knight?” Nines couldn't help but tease.

“I might be. You better keep good on your promise, don’t let one eat me.” Nines watched as Gavin fished a small philter of lyrium from his belongings and drank it- hadn’t he already had it before they left? Perhaps he’d taken too little the day before, Nines hadn’t been paying attention.

“Of course, Gavin, I’ll keep you safe.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t even proof read this I’m so glad to finally have it done my phone ate the first draft but I think this one is better ! I hope you enjoy !!

“‘Don’t like parties’ my ass, you looked right at fuckin’ home.” Gavin was a little bit buzzed, and why wouldn’t he be? He just survived a whole evening of rich people asking him to tell the same story over and over, practically tripping over each other to kiss his ass, who the fuck did something like that sober?

“I told you, it’s a skillset.” Nines most definitely was not buzzed like Gavin, if at all, but he seemed in a good mood anyway. Their shoulders kept bumping as they wandered back to their rooms, that was mostly Gavin’s fault.

“You just look pretty and say mean shit to people really nicely, what takes skill about that?”

“Making it look easy.” He did make it look easy. He was so god damn perfect. Gavin almost let the words fall out of his mouth.

Maybe making it look easy did take a little skill, considering people were fucking determined to ignore Nines as much as they were obsessed with him. Maker, the Arl hadn’t looked him in the eyes till he outed the Arlessa. Half the people treated him like a particularly dangerous accessory, like Gavin was wearing a live ass snake on his arm; Nines had held his arm for damn ever, it was...making Gavin feel really gay.

Just as he was thinking of it Nines caught his arm and guided him down a different hallway, they were supposed to go this way, weren’t they? Gavin really hadn’t been paying attention. He was maybe a little more than buzzed.

Anyway, here he was, about to get all pissed on the mage’s behalf, and instead Nines goes and makes him feel. Like this.

Gavin was so preoccupied with ogling the mage’s face when he thought he could get away with it that it surprised him when their little promenade came to an abrupt end. He might have even felt his face pull a pout, just a little bit.

“This is your room,” Nines informed him helpfully, because Gavin was just standing there like a dumbass, staring at him, at his gorgeous fucking face, thinking, ‘I should just do it. I should just invite him to stay.’

And coincidentally, his very first thought when he woke up the next morning was something like ‘thank you, sweet Maker, for making me a little bitch, because I almost invited him to sleep with me, holy shit.’

He had a hangover, as divine punishment for nearly being such a fucking dumbass, probably.

It would be fucked up, right? No matter what some demon told him, he couldn’t want that. A mage and a templar, every time it happened it always ended badly, and of course Nines would lose the most.

Nines seemed like the type that liked to be romanced properly anyway. Like with flowers and poetry and shit. Gavin didn’t have any sense for all that. He was more of a just screw around till you catch feelings and then fuck off kind of man himself.

Maybe he liked to be adored and doted on a little more than he’d prefer to admit. Jaime had been good at that, making him feel special. He started to wonder if Nines would be better, and then he started to wonder if he should punch himself.

Because he couldn’t want that. Fuck that. Gavin looked around for something else to think about, but he caught Nines’s eyes instead and that only flustered him further. It must have showed on his face.

“Would you indulge me, Ser Knight?” Now why’d he have to say something like that? Either Gavin was cursed, or Nines was a mind-reader. And this ‘Ser Knight’ shit was getting under Gavin’s skin again in a new, less unpleasant way.

“Maybe. What do you want?”

“What did the demon show you?” Cursed. He was fucking cursed.

“Oh you know, every man’s dream, sex, drugs, and money.”

Gavin didn’t wanna look at the skeptical expression he knew Nines was wearing. He was just gonna put on a confident face and carry on. “What, it show you somethin’ better than that?”

“No, it showed me the same, actually.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” and Gavin hadn’t been curious on the subject before, of what the demon had tried to tempt Nines with, but now he was. Ravenously so. “I bet it was like, a shit ton of books or something like that. Maybe just your comfy little room in the tower.”

Nines looked off to the side, contemplating, and Gavin tried not to stare and think about what a nice nose he had. What the fucking hell was wrong with him. “I don’t know where I was, somewhere sunny and clear, but forgettable,” leave it to Nines to criticize a fabricated paradise, with the audacity to sound wistful as he did it, “What I most strongly recall is feeling...profoundly safe.”

“You were free,” Gavin didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it hit him like a fucking wall. He shouldn’t have been so surprised that this conversation landed him out of his depth, talking about feelings and shit, he hated this kind of thing. And at the same time it was like sugar, the idea that what Nines wanted most was to be safe and free.

And here Gavin was just wanting to get laid. He hardly registered the self-loathing that brought him, he was too busy trying to find his balance.

“Absurd, isn’t it?” Nines generously offered him more steady ground, discrediting the demon’s validity. Yeah, that made sense, it was all bullshit and they could laugh about it.

“Yeah, that demon didn’t know what the fuck it was on about I think, it had me making out with an ex.” He lied, seamlessly, like an absolute pro, and Nines seemed to have bought it this time.

“Ser Jamison, you mean?” Gavin must have pulled a face, because Nines laughed.

“No, fuck him, he’s a bastard.” They hadn’t seen him when they passed through Lothering, thank Andraste, Gavin didn’t think he could stand it. They’d left the highway at some point and wandered off into the wilds, following the phylactery’s light.

It was nearing the middle of the day and that hangover feeling hadn’t left yet. Maybe Gavin felt like shit because he’d been thinking about this demon stuff for too long. He didn’t want more lyrium, he’d already taken a little that day, hoping it would make his headache go away.

“He was, admittedly, a touch unpleasant.”

“Only a fuckin’ touch? He would have let that Terror kill you, you know, he looked right at you and then ran off the other way.” It still made Gavin’s blood boil just to think of it.

“Perhaps he thought you had the situation under control. You did come to my rescue, after all.”

The mage was actively trying to kill him, talking about him in that fond tone of voice, Gavin was sure of it. Now he was gonna melt alive in his armor.

“S’my job to babysit you, don’t go fuckin swooning about it.”

“Indeed. If only more templars were as dedicated as you are.”

Gavin didn’t know how the fuck to respond, which was cool, because something to their left snapped a branch and they both looked.

A fog had rolled in around them. The trees were nothing like the pretty flowering sort they’d seen in South Reach, instead they were gnarled and bare. The land was different too, softer, giving way to murky black water in places. They were definitely in the Korcari Wilds now. The poor horses must have been having quite a time navigating knobby roots and thick weeds and watery pitfalls.

Anyway, there was a giant crab a ways off to their left. Not just like larger than average, this was like claws the size of a grown man giant. Gavin didn’t know whether he was alarmed or sort of distantly amused in a ‘this might as well happen’ way.

“Fascinating. These were mentioned in my book, how delightful to see one in person. We should leave immediately.” Gavin gave a half-hysterical snort at Nines’s tone and followed him as they started off in the opposite direction, slowly at first. Maybe the thing wouldn’t notice them.

It had absolutely fucking noticed them. It was crashing through the trees at them. Over this terrain it would absolutely overtake the horses, a benefit of having so many legs and being so bloody big. Gavin was going to have to try to turn around and hit it with a sword or something before it ate him.

Nines seemed to come to the same realization. He conjured a fireball in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder, and it landed and exploded right in the beasts face. The crab reeled and screeched, then sort of shuffled in place, clearly reluctant to pass through in the flames.

And for a second everything was great. Nines was grinning, looking like fucking sunshine, and Gavin couldn’t help but smile back, feeling all triumphant and shit. And then Nines had an arrow in his shoulder.

Gavin looked wildly around for the source, but he couldn’t see anything, just a canopy of twisted grey trees passing by. He understood it all when something, somebody tackled him off his fucking horse from above.

The bastard’s skin and clothes were streaked with paint, he blended right in with the environment. Gavin could see them now, two or three others in the trees, and a few more closing in on them over the ground, beyond the shoulder of the one straddling his waist, poised to cave his fucking skull with an axe.

 

“Are you okay?”

Amazing, what three simple words could do.

Nines had been so focused, contemplating a way for them to safely escape. They were tied up, in the middle of a sprawling maze of tents at the base of a cliff, surrounded by surely nearly a hundred Avvar tribesmen.

His shoulder had been tended to by some old witch with the longest hair he’d ever seen, the tribe’s Augur, he recalled the title from his reading. The wound didn’t hurt him anymore, but nothing could be done for the way it stung his pride. For over two hours as the sun fell he’d been sat here stewing in his fury, imagining all the things he could have done to prevent this inconvenience.

And just as he was growing irrational in his frustration, as he began to think ‘perhaps I’ll simply kill them all and raze a path out of this for us,’ the templar tied up and unconscious at his side awoke and asked if he was alright.

It was so sweet it risked ruining him. You would think it would have stopped having such a profound effect on him, some fool templar caring for him out of, what? Honor? Duty? Some sense of obligation, surely.

“I’m okay,” Nines responded softly, something in his chest twisting brutally as Gavin leaned a little more into his shoulder.

He looked absolutely awful. The wound that had knocked him unconscious had been healed, but he looked ill. He cringed every time his eyes passed over the light of a torch, and Nines could feel how his body was shaking. How long had it been since he’d last had lyrium? He’d had more than normal, Nines thought. Some in the morning before they left, a little more at the gates of South Reach, and more still as they passed through Lothering. Was there something wrong with it? It had been taken from them when they were captured, there was no way to tell at the moment.

It occurred to Nines as something like a shadow of a thought that it was quite an opportunity to kill the templar, too, made weak like this. Gavin wouldn’t be able to silence his magic, could hardly wield a sword against him as the withdrawal worsened. It’d be too simple.

But that thought was smothered, entirely overwhelmed by an impulse to protect. Nines wanted to tuck Gavin away somewhere safe and make it all better. For no rational fucking reason, of course.

With renewed interest he began to search for an escape, but they were being approached. He recognized the warrior in the lead, the hulking brute that had taken Gavin down. Nines was inclined to dislike him.

Wordlessly they were hauled to their feet- not entirely wordlessly, Nines very clearly heard Gavin snarl something like fuck off under his breath.

Nines hated this. He hated being bound and manhandled, he hated being powerless. Nearly instinctually he held himself just so, as if a rigid posture and judgmental air would help him retain some semblance of agency and control.

They were led to a cave in the base of the cliff. The walls within were decorated with animal skins and crude paintings. At the center of the cavern was a bonfire, surrounded on all sides by Avvar sporting paint and furs and leather and great horned headdresses, and at the back of the cave there was a woman lounging atop a throne of piled stone.

She looked unimpressed as they approached. Nines did his best not to take offense. It would be ideal to keep a level head.

“The fuck have you done now, Dunwal?” The lady barked, apparently addressing the Avvar that had brought them here.

The brute pounded his chest and stepped forward. “These lowlanders attacked our hold-beast, I’ve brought them here to face justice.”

“We didn’t attack fucking shit, you’re the ones that jumped on us!” Gavin argued. In his thoughts Nines compared him to a cat again, all fluffed up in his rage, trying to look bigger in the face of a threat. He did look so tiny in the presence of all these giant mountain-folk, even in his armor.

Nines hadn’t read much about the Avvar, but he’d read enough to keep them from getting murdered over the course of this conversation, hopefully. “You have our apologies, honorable Thane. We didn’t know the creature was your hold-beast, we’re passing through the area and were only trying to escape it.”

“What, the fucking crab? Are you shitting me?” Gavin exclaimed, so very helpfully.

“And what of my men you burned?” The great brute, Dunwal, demanded.

Ah, yes, that. Nines had thought he could handle the situation, after Gavin had fallen. But casting spells on men he couldn’t see was quite an ordeal, and he could only block arrows by reflex alone for so long before they proved his undoing.

“We were defending ourselves,” he told the Thane, not even sparing Dunwal a glance. He was aware of the giant’s growing fury beside him, but it simply wouldn’t do to acknowledge that he was worth looking at.

“So you saw these fools running from Nimie and thought to drag them before me rather than sit back and laugh? Let them fucking go.” The Thane tossed her hair and slouched in her seat.

“It’s my right to avenge our hunters-“

“It’s your right to shut your mouth. You just want to prove your strength so some girl will have you. Fine, then, a duel. You win, and they walk free. You lose, they walk free and everyone can see what a fucking fool you are.” What a charming lady the Thane was. From Nines’s understanding, disputes were often settled among the Avvar by some trial or another, they believed in that case that the final decision was up to their gods.

To refuse would surely be rude, and the terms sounded perfectly amenable. Nines was satisfied- just one little fight and they could leave.

Dunwal made as if to cut Gavin’s binds, apparently having chosen him for an opponent- this was less than ideal, but understandable. If what the Thane said was true, that the brute just wanted to show off, a lyrium-starved templar was a far easier target than a mage.

“Not that one,” the Thane snapped, sitting up again. “The mage burned your men, you fight the mage, unless you’re a coward.” Truly, a sensible woman.

“Hey, no, fucking leave him alone,” Gavin crowded closer to Nines, hands still bound, shoving himself stubbornly between Nines and the Avvar. Clearly acknowledging no line between courage and stupidity. Nines was entirely powerless not to smile.

“It’s fine, Gavin,” he assured the templar. He willed the ropes about his wrists to burn and they did, and he discarded their remains in the bonfire, keeping his eyes resolutely on the Thane. “There is lyrium among our belongings,” he informed her, “and my friend will become very sick without it. It would be most gracious of you to return it to him.”

The Thane regarded him a moment. She had an air of authority that was not graceful, but fierce and absolute. It suited her. She inclined her head at one of the other Avvar, who hurried off out of the cave, presumably to grant Nines’s request.

“Let’s be off, then,” the Thane said, hauling herself to her feet. “I want to watch this.”

They were led through the camp to a clearing at the edge. Nines was handed his staff- he never really cared to use it. Other mages might use such a tool to visualize, or to empower their spells with enchantments, but Nines never felt the need for any sort of crutch like that. He and his brother were, objectively, absolute prodigies after all. It might be viewed as an insult to just toss the thing aside, though.

Dunwal chose to arm himself with a very big axe. And Nines thought it was fucking funny, because didn’t that indicate something about the fragility of his ego? As if this entire ordeal wasn’t telling enough. So he looked back at Gavin, hoping to silently communicate his amusement, but Gavin didn’t look anything approaching jovial. He looked deeply apprehensive, in fact.

And it gave Nines that feeling again, that entirely foolish impulse to make it all better for him. He resolved to end this quickly.

“On with it then. It’s for the Gods to decide now. Try not to make too great a fucking fool of yourself.” The Thane called. There were so many people gathered to observe, and they were all waiting silently.

Nines could never quite put to words what it felt like to work magic. It often varied from spell to spell. It was draining just as fighting with a sword might be, but the energy left him all at once rather than being spent slowly, a cold feeling taking its place. At first Nines hardly noticed it, but as each spell chilled him further it became nearly maddening. It only reached that point if he nearly killed himself, though.

His opponent charged forward, as warriors were wont to do. Nines cast a volley of firebolts at him, and he rolled through them, more agile than Nines had expected. But no more observant. Distracted by the flames, he stepped right into the trap Nines had cast in his path. The ground below the Avvar’s feet erupted in fire and jagged black stone, launching him in the air.

Laughter and applause from around them followed, and Nines couldn’t help feeling proud. Only a little. Just a tiny bit.

If his opponent was anything he was durable, however. He got to his feet and advanced once more, faster than Nines would have expected, again. He even charged right through the wall of fire Nines cast in his path to deter him.

Nines simply melted into flame as Dunwal swung his axe, coming back together again some distance away and tossing a fireball at the Avvar’s back. It wasn’t meant to do damage, just to annoy the man, and oh, did it work.

He tried it again, it wasn’t exactly teleportation that he was doing, that wasn’t strictly possible, it was more like being...half real. And very fast. Nines just zipped around, tossing little fireballs at the Avvar each time he stopped, and people were laughing, the Thane especially.

And Nines couldn’t help being viciously amused himself- Dunwal was getting furious, with nothing near enough to swing his weapon at. It made the cold easier to ignore. Gavin was even grinning, when Nines glanced at him.

But he must have gotten distracted in his fun, or maybe Gavin’s smile had made a fucking fool of him, made him predictable, because the instant he stopped next a very big axe buried itself in his side. Dunwal had thrown it, and of course he would be so accurate, Nines should have known. Well, at least it hadn’t sliced him right in half.

Quickly, he needed to end this quickly.

The ground below Dunwal’s feet exploded once more, and this time Nines caught him in the air, threw him back to the ground, shattering the black stone spires below him, and then held him aloft again. He was singed and bruised and bloody, yet Nines could feel how he struggled against the magic that held him, that was crushing him.

He felt like he could just fall asleep. Like he was a child again with his brother in the Denerim Chantry garden, sneaking out at night and laying in the snow. Amanda had fussed over them so fiercely when she discovered them, and precious Connor had caught a cold.

Connor often chastised him for being reckless and proud. It was true, though Nines wouldn’t admit it. But it was almost hilariously apparent now, as he fought to crush his opponent with all the strength he still possessed while he bled to fucking death instead of admitting defeat.

“Alright, enough! I’m bored of this.” The Thane’s voice carried across the clearing and Nines dropped his victim immediately.

He lost interest in the Avvar, as his next priority was not dying, and to do that he would have to pull the axe out and heal himself. But as he grasped at the handle of the thing he found this task more difficult to accomplish than he’d pictured in his head. His hands were so freezing he could hardly feel them.

Nines would be quite loath to admit that everything after that happened in a bit of a blur. Dunwal appeared intent on continuing their fight, and Gavin, ever Nines’s loyal protecter, fiercely intercepted him, until the Thane herself intervened. Then Nines was cared for by the Augur again, though he didn’t know what had happened in those moments between here and there. The next time Nines was properly conscious, he was laying in a larger tent with bones and dried herbs and things hanging from the wooden supports. It looked to be early in the morning from the light he could glimpse through the gaps and holes.

And Gavin was laying beside him, asleep. He still looked in need of lyrium, but less desperately than before. His face was pleasant like this, lacking its usual grouchy frown. Not that it’s usual grouchy frown was unpleasant at all. But like this he looked cute. How terribly cruel of him.

Clearly Nines has been laying around for far too long, so he tried to get up, but that. Hurt. Very much. So he made the very wise executive decision to not do that. For now.

“Awake, are you? I’d call you a lucky boy, but luck had naught to do with it.” The crone was facing away from them, fiddling with something at a table.

“Of course, I’m very grateful for your help,” Nines responded. For no reason in particular he found he preferred to continue staring at Gavin’s face rather than anything else in the room.

“I’d little to do with it either, your sort are hard to kill.”

Just what did she mean by his sort? Nines didn’t have a moment to ask, nor did he care to, because Gavin was waking up. He made such a miserable face the second the sun reached his eyes, it was delightful.

And then he gave Nines an entirely different sort of frown, he had such a range of them, these frowns. It was fascinating.

“I want you to know that you’re a bastard,” Gavin sounded sleepy rather than angry.

“Yes, by an Orlesian and an elf, I recall.”

“Don’t be cute,”

“You think I’m cute?”

Gavin’s face flushed, he was so terribly transparent. “I might, if you weren’t such a bastard.”

“Are you going to be this contrary every time we wake up together?”

“Fuck you, you fucking-“

“You’re welcome to leave as you please,” the Augur called as she left the tent. Gavin pulled a guilty grin, like some Chantry sister had just slapped him on the wrist for foul language. And then they were there, giggling in bed together.

Staring down an Avvar barbarian with steel in his guts had felt less perilous. Nines had nearly forgotten it had happened already, that’s how foolish he was being. But strangely he didn’t care.

They left without incident, nobody tried to stop them. This little holdup would cost them time, it would take even longer to find the mage they were after now. Maybe Nines would get lucky, and the wilds would claim the apostate. Then he wouldn’t have to kill the poor wretch himself. Which reminded him.

“Ser Knight, are you feeling quite well?”

“You get chopped in half and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

“You’re the most observant man I’ve ever met, it’s absurdly charming.” Nines was absolutely doing it on purpose at this point, flirting with Gavin just to fluster him. Templars, the poor fools were so repressed.

“Yeah, yeah, try to keep your fucking skirt on. What do you really want, huh?”

“Might I see your lyrium?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take me to dinner first?” Gavin retrieved the lyrium from his things and passed it to Nines without further question, surprisingly.

Nines managed to suppress the impulse to say something like ‘oh, it’s bigger than I pictured!’ in favor of focusing on the task at hand. Just when had they made it to the dick jokes phase of their? Friendship?

A few philtres had already been prepared, but much of the lyrium remained in a powdered form. In that raw state it was dangerous to consume, but just a taste wouldn’t hurt.

“This is cut with sugar,” Nines announced, so impassively Gavin didn’t seem to register what he’d said for a moment.

“Fucking what?”

“Sugar.” Nines passed the kit back to Gavin so he could see for himself.

“It wasn’t before,”

Of course it wouldn’t have been. Nines tilted his head and thought.

Since they’d left South Reach it had been like this.

“I had thought the Arlessa’s absence at the execution was due to her guilt. Perhaps instead she was taking revenge...”

“Fucking hell.”

Nines hummed his agreement. They were lost somewhere in the notoriously impassable Korcari Wilds, and could quite possibly run out of lyrium before they found their way, given the rate at which Gavin would have to consume it to remain sane. Fucking hell indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I blacked out and woke up with this in my notes idk what it is but I’m posting it

“I’m fucking dying,”

“You’re not fucking dying, come here,”

“Why, so you can end it faster? You’re a fucking saint,” 

Gavin let Nines drag him the rest of the way over like he was some petulant child and shove? Fucking snow? In his face?

“Where the hell did you get fucking snow?”

“A dragon gave it to me.” 

“Have you ever just answered a question in your life?” 

“It’s magic, it’s for your head, now stop talking and try to rest.” 

They’d been wandering around in the woods for two days since the Avvar released them and they still hadn’t found this apostate. Gavin was starting to wonder if the wilds weren’t fucking with them, fucking with the phylactery’s enchantment and just running them in circles. Was that too crazy? Lyrium withdrawal made people crazy. 

He wasn’t supposed to be crazy yet. It always started with a headache, so light at first he could almost ignore it. It could be mistaken for any other tension headache, fuck knows Gavin got loads of those. The difference was the ringing in his ears that came with it, just audible enough to be fucking obnoxious. 

Lyrium was not a patient bitch, either. If, Maker forbid, Gavin woke up late or something and put taking the shit off for even an hour the headache would go from annoying to near blinding. Other cool stuff came into the picture too, like shakes and nausea and general feverish weakness. After a few hours of that delightful cocktail it would settle down a bit and Gavin would almost feel like himself but with a nasty hangover. 

Then the weird shit would start up. The headaches and other symptoms would be sort of off and on- more on than off, but he’d start seeing and hearing thing and having freaky dreams too. 

Gavin wasn’t there yet. He was more in the feeling like absolute shit phase, but he’d get worse if he didn’t get more lyrium, and that might be before they got the fuck out of these woods. 

The snow did help his head a little bit. And Nines was all close to him again. He had a real interesting concept of personal space, it apparently didn’t exist in his mind when it was least convenient for Gavin. Nines couldn’t just be in Gavin’s space either, oh no, he had to be doing something sweet for him while he was there. The absolute jackass. 

Gavin did kind of like it though. It felt like forever ago that they were at each other’s fucking throats. And he really did appreciate Nines trying to take care of him, fucking fussing over him, really. Gavin would have to tease him later about being such a softie. 

“You’re supposed to be fuckin’ nice to people when they’re dying you know.”

Nines brushed Gavin’s hair out of his face and crooned, “please shut the fuck up, my poor darling, and go to sleep.” Nines’s fingers in his hair was, objectively, one of the best feelings in the fucking world. It was making Gavin feel really gay. What the fuck were they doing. 

He should just kiss the bastard. Say, ‘thanks for being such a sweetheart in the last hours of my life, I think I love you by the way,’ and fucking kiss him. Maybe he’d do it, when he’d lost all his faculties to fucking lyrium withdrawal. 

Of course Gavin didn’t kiss him, instead he went to sleep as Prince Bastard commanded. Nines stayed up a little later, reading his book or whatever and humming a song. Or at least Gavin thought it was him, but just before he drifted off he wasn’t so sure- it didn’t really sound like Nines at all. 

Gavin woke up again with an even worse headache than before. 

He was trying to take it slow, just one dose of the blue shit in the morning like normal, nothing else. He should have listened to all the old vets that tried to tell him he ought to get used to taking as little as he could stand. They thought it would make them live longer, but Gavin never gave a shit about all that, not when taking it felt so good and made him so strong. 

It was still dark when he got up. In fact, it was still the middle of the night. He knew what had woken him up, too, it was this singing. At first he thought he’d just been dreaming but someone, somewhere in the middle of the this fucking swamp was singing, and Gavin’s first impulse was to go the fuck back to sleep because it wasn’t his problem. His second impulse, because he was losing his mind, was to put his boots on and go look for it. 

He tugged the phylactery out of his shirt, because somewhere in his disintegrating brain he thought it might be the apostate singing in the woods like a crazy person. It did line up, coincidentally, the way the phylactery was pointing and the direction the singing was coming from. The little thing was glowing so bright too, so bright it hurt Gavin’s head. Fuck. 

Whatever language the singing was in, it wasn’t common. It almost sounded like it, but Gavin couldn’t actually pick out any words, kind of like the babbling spirits at South Reach. Was it a fucking ghost? Was he chasing a singing fucking ghost? Or a possessed apostate. Maybe it was the witch from Nines’s book. He should have woken Nines up. He should turn around and go wake Nines up.

And yet, he felt...sort of like he was still dreaming. The singing made the emptiness in him near unbearable, like there was a big, sweet pile of lyrium right in front of him. It made his head all fuzzy, and something in him told him that if he found the singing, he’d feel all better. 

It was dark as fuck around him, he only had moon to see by. So of course, when the ground vanished under his feet, he tripped and tumbled right down. And now he was in a cave, maybe, he couldn’t see shit. The singing was loud now, echoing all around him, and the phylactery was going crazy in his hand, spinning so fast it looked like a solid disk of glowing red.

Gavin couldn’t go back up, so he went forward instead. He was feeling bizarrely calm about this entire, very spooky, probably life-threatening situation. It was the pull in his chest that kept him going, there was something for him here, and nothing felt quite real, like if he did get murdered by a witch or a possessed apostate he’d just wake up in bed again.

The tunnel went down pretty steeply, and it started out sort of rough and rocky, with the roots of trees just barely visible in the dark above. Then it started to get smooth, and the air felt different. Gavin still couldn’t see the ceiling, but it made his fucking head spin to look up. Everything felt still, way too still. The singing sounded like it was coming from a cathedral and he could just hear the echo of his own steps. 

Gavin thought his eyes were adjusting to the dark, but really there was a light coming from somewhere ahead of him. He could just barely see the walls now, they looked carved, where the fuck was he? A dwarven ruin? This high up? It wasn’t impossible, but one hell of a coincidence. Nothing nice ever happened in dwarven ruins.

At the end of the chamber there was...some weird shit. The ceiling and walls were crumbling, giving way to a massive rock structure that looked to have grown from the ground. It was absolutely lyrium, a very fucking big hunk of lyrium, Gavin could feel that much. 

Except the shit was red. 

He got closer, because why the fuck wouldn’t he? This felt different from normal lyrium, better, stronger, it’s light was almost too hot to stand. And it was overwhelming, how bad he wanted it. The song was coming from inside it.

Maybe Gavin could chip some of the shit off with his sword. Just a little piece would hold him off for a while. He didn’t care that it kind of hurt to get closer, he needed it. 

He could see something weird about it, at this distance. There was somebody inside it, encased in it like a fossil. Gavin recognized her, could feel his heart sink for her kind of at the back of his mind. A glance at the phylactery confirmed it, this was the apostate. How the fuck had she gotten in there? Maybe Gavin could break her out. 

“Gavin, do not touch that.” 

Gavin turned around to see Nines 

And it kind of pissed him off. Like, a whole lot. 

The fuck did he mean ‘don’t touch that?’ Gavin needed this shit. And he found it. It was for him. And he was in charge, wasn’t he? That’s what he’d fucking said. He made the calls around here, not some spoiled mage.

“Fucking unclench, Your Highness, it’s lyrium, I’m taking some.”

“There’s something wrong with it, we should go,” Nines took a step closer and Gavin pointed his sword at him. Some part of him felt bad for it, but that was buried under how fucking bad he needed this lyrium.

The look on Nines’s face didn’t feel good at all. It was uncharacteristically open for him, and he looked confused and a little hurt and Gavin really didn’t like it but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to do something to fix it, but it felt like part of him wanted wanted one thing and the rest of him wanted something else, and the rest of him was the part holding a weapon.

He turned around and hit the rock with the hilt of his sword.

And then the apostate inside opened her eyes. Lily, her name had been Lily, Gavin remembered now.

“Oh, fuck,”

“We should go.”

Didn’t have to tell him twice, Gavin scrambled back to Nines’s side. The singing stopped, and now the thing was screaming, and moving. Cracking, crumbling, coming to life. It wrenched itself violently away from the wall and started to lumber toward them. Fuck, what a great time to be caught without his armor on.

The thing was huge. A monster made of red crystal, with short legs and one very big, very dangerous looking arm.

Shards of lyrium scattered across the floor as the thing freed itself, and Gavin couldn’t resist snatching one up as they started to run, but it burned the shit out of his hand and he dropped it.

The thing thundered after them with a roar, the noise was almost unbearable.

“It’s a dead end ahead,” Gavin called, “we can’t-“

Nines stopped abruptly in front of him and looked around for another way, and seeing none he looked back at the lyrium monster and got this cold, determined look on his face. That ‘it doesn’t matter how many there are’ face. And Gavin, because he was definitely insane at this point, could only look at that face and think, ‘oh, shit, I’m in love with him aren’t I?’

The monster was getting closer and closer to them and Gavin was starting to think maybe Nines was fucking crazy too, but just as the thing was upon them he made this motion like tearing some curtains aside and the big fucker was thrown off its feet and crashed into the wall to their right. Nines snatched Gavin’s hand and led him through the hole it had opened up, into a new cavern. They could hear the rumble of the monster getting to its feet behind them.

Gavin almost tripped and fell on his fucking face when the polished ground below their feet turned to stairs, but Nines was still holding his hand, thank fuck. The monster was thundering after them, the steps shattering and collapsing under its weight. It was catching up.

Just as Gavin thought it, solid ice replaced the stairs, courtesy of Nines, he assumed, unless these were some weird fucking ruins. Sliding was way faster than running, it had to be magic that was keeping them balanced. The lyrium monster slipped on the ice and started to tumble down after them, scrambling for its bearings.

It was almost fun, they were almost smiling.

“Hey, that’s-“ Gavin pulled on Nines’s hand, and Nines looked where he gestured and nodded, and together they hopped off the stairs and through a door. The monster went screaming past them.

And once again they found themselves just escaped from peril and staring at each other, still holding hands. Was Gavin smiling? He felt like he was smiling.

They heard a big fucking crash from back in the stairwell and then a roar. Gavin stopped smiling.

“We should keep running,” he said.

“Indeed.”

There were lights now on the walls, and weird relief carvings. Gavin didn’t have time to stop and stare at the shit, they could still hear crashing and screaming behind them.

They turned right down a new hall, another right, a left. Just as Gavin was starting to think they were in the clear, the wall behind them exploded and the monster came tumbling out.

The chamber they were in abruptly opened up and it made Gavin dizzy as shit. Now they were in a massive fucking cavern, no ceiling, no perceivable floor, just a bridge from one door to the other.

Nines let go of Gavin’s hand half way across and stopped running. He looked back at the monster just charging through the threshold behind them. The bridge started to collapse under its feet, just behind the thing but gaining.

“Nines-“

The mage turned around and looked at him, and it was that same look he had on his face before he’d thrown Gavin off the barricade to protect him from the Terror. He liked this look so much fucking less than the sad betrayed one.

“Nines don’t you fucking-“

Nines waved his hand and threw Gavin the rest of the way across the bridge, landing him safely albeit painfully in the other threshold, and then turned around and hurled a big fireball at the monster’s face, knocking it back into the abyss.

 

And then he fell himself, as the bridge collapsed under his feet.

But it couldn’t end like that, because fuck that, no. The man could not make Gavin fall in love with him and then fucking kill himself. So Gavin did what a very sane person would do and hopped down the endless fucking hole after him.

 

So thank fuck it was all water at the bottom. Deep ass water, apparently, because the rock monster just kept sinking till they couldn’t see its light anymore. Or did it just float off into the ceiling? Gavin couldn’t fucking tell up from down, which was a little problematic, because he would have to breathe at some point. Away from the giant monster, he should just keep going away from the giant monster.

Adrenaline was a fake friend. As soon as Gavin found land and tried to drag himself out of the water it ditched him, leaving him feeling like absolute hell. But conveniently Nines was there to help him and together they struggled on to the? Shore? Was this a whole fucking underground lake? Gavin couldn’t see the other side. Anyway, here they were once more, clinging together. Nines looked like an angel even soaking wet and exhausted.

And this was the part where Gavin lost all his faculties to fucking lyrium withdrawal, because he leaned forward and kissed Nines. It wasn’t the spiciest kiss in the world, because they were both freezing to death probably, but Nines’s fingers were in his hair and it was a million times better than what the demon had shown him.

Some more debris fell from the bridge above them, and they got splashed by the waves it made, of course, and then they were fucking laughing. And then kissing more. And laughing while they were kissing.

They were gonna fucking die down here.

 

“Hey Nines?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Gavin was bad at apologizing and shit, but he realized at some point that this clusterfuck was his fault, and he should maybe say something about it.

“That’s alright,”

“I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me, I mean, other than the fuckin’ institutionally sponsored drug addiction but-“

“Gavin,” and Gavin very politely shut up, cause that’s what you were supposed to do when you were apologizing, be polite. “What exactly about the last ten minutes has indicated to you that I am angry with you?”

Gavin shrugged. “You’re over there and I’m over here,”

Currently they were huddled awkwardly on opposite sides of a fire Nines had lit, slowly drying off.

“I...thought you might want a moment to process.”

“I kissed you first, I don’t think that makes me the one that needs a moment to process.”

“A lot of other things have occurred that might require processing, or have you forgotten? On a completely unrelated note, are you concussed? I forgot to check.”

“Have you ever even done something like this before?” The decision to kiss Nines, to want whatever the fuck he wanted with Nines, came with some obligatory guilt. Gavin was a templar, after all, and no matter what the circumstances, it felt a little like he was taking advantage. Sweet Andraste, it wasn’t even that serious, they hadn’t even fucked, all these dumb feelings were just so confusing. 

Nines gave him a look that almost made him giggle. It said, ‘have you fucking looked at me?’ So Gavin’s question was kind of dumb, fair. He still felt bad. And then Nines responded, “Never with anyone that...mattered...to me.”

“You make it sound like the Grand Cleric loaned you out to the fuckin’ Pearl.” The Pearl was the fanciest brothel in Denerim. And a bad joke. Such a bad joke. Gavin should not kiss a boy and then call him a whore, sweet fucking Andraste what was wrong with him.

“Sometimes, in the Circle, when you want things like information, or books the Chantry has banned, or access to restricted areas, a blowjob is as good as 50 sovereigns. And sometimes I’m just bored.”

“Oh,” oh, okay. Okay, Gavin knew that was a thing. The sexual favors in the Circle, not the boredom. He just didn’t know that was a thing Nines would take part in, he seemed...too above it all. Like people just gave him shit because he was him, not because he fucked them. Apparently it was a little of both.

“I suppose I just want you to know that my...interest. In you. Isn’t...motivated by things like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” so Nines wasn’t taking advantage of him either, and he didn’t need to feel guilty, is what he thought the mage was saying. “Yeah, I like you too.”

Nines gave Gavin a shy sort of smile that made his heart fucking melt.

“Is that seat taken?” Gavin asked, pointing to the spot next to Nines.

“I think it is, actually, but I’ll take your side if the fellow returns.”

Gavin stood up, crossed their little camp and sat down next to Nines, and Nines dragged him into the sweetest kiss of his fucking life.

It was nice, really nice, even though they were definitely gonna die here.

 

Once upon a time the great dwarven kingdom had included an intricate subterranean highway system that spanned all of Thedas, called the Deep Roads. But after the first blight, the Deep Roads became infested with darkspawn. They lurked there until another Blight caused them to surge to the surface, destroying or infecting everything in their path.

That’s where they were, the Deep Roads. They’d stumbled across some lost entrance or something. Gavin didn’t think they were deep enough to run into darkspawn, but it wasn’t impossible. They’d be in big fucking trouble if they did, he had no armor and he felt like absolute shit.

Nines did his best to help when it got bad, but magic couldn’t fix this, only alleviate the symptoms a little.

It just kept getting worse and worse as they wandered further. Were they headed up? Gavin couldn’t tell if they were headed up or down. There had been staircases, so many he couldn’t remember. Didn’t help that he was dizzy every five fucking seconds. And hot. And cold. And shaky and weak and sick.

Nines was holding his hand a lot. Not like, a lot a lot, it was mostly to help keep him steady because he was all kinds of fucked up. But it still gave him butterflies. Jaime used to treat holding his hand like stealing candy, ‘here I go, risking trouble ‘cause you’re worth it, baby.’ But it was kind of a transaction, he didn’t really care about it, he just did it cause Gavin liked it and he wanted to get in Gavin’s pants.

But it was like, too sweet, made shit complicated, and Gavin couldn’t deal with complicated. So really, it was easier with people like Jaime, who didn’t give a shit. The guy before Jaime hadn’t given a shit either, or the one before that. What the fuck were he and Nines, anyway? They almost died and then made out about it, what did that make them?

Dead idiots in love, or something.

“Under different circumstances, I would be thrilled to see something like this,” Nines said. Their wandering had brought them to what would look like a town in the middle of nowhere if it weren’t so dark and rocky. There was no perceivable ceiling above them, or walls around them, just endless darkness. Only their path and the buildings were lit.

It was kind of cool. Not something you got to see every day. “You think there’s anything worth money still laying around?”

Nines snorted. “Better for us if there isn’t, that would mean there’s a way out nearby.”

Together they wandered into town. It was a little bit creepy up close, all these empty buildings looked like a big skeleton. There were a lot of dark rooms and sharp corners where things could be hiding, too, and Gavin didn’t like that much. Was it lyrium withdrawal paranoia or normal paranoia that was giving him goosebumps?

He kept glancing at Nines, because Nines was the one with all his senses under control at the moment, and he seemed perfectly calm. He was holding Gavin’s hand, that was nice, everything was nice.

A high-pitched shriek came from down an alley to their left and Gavin nearly had a fucking heart attack.

He snatched his hands away from Nines and moved to draw his sword-

It was a nug. A couple of them, actually, they came bumbling out of the alley and vanished into a house.

Nugs were like rabbits, but naked, with weird faces and little human-looking hands.

Gavin shoved his sword back in its sheath.

“No, no, don’t put that away, whatever will we do if they come back?” If it were possible for Nines to light up the whole fucking cave with his smile, he’d be doing it. That heart attack from before? Nines’s smile was singlehandedly resuscitating Gavin from that. And pissing him off just a little bit, in a fun way.

“I figured I’d just toss you to em and run away,” Gavin would do something like give the mage a playful shove or maybe take his hand again, but he wasn’t super confident in his balance at the moment and honestly just that little scare had him feeling tired as fuck.

Nines had it handled, though. He hooked his arm with Gavin’s again like they were on a pleasant little stroll through this ghost town in hell. “My galant knight, what would I do without you?”

“Get out of this fucking cave faster, probably.”

“Nonsense, I’d have been eaten by nugs by now, surely,”

 

Nines said it was starting to look like they were getting closer to the surface. Gavin really couldn’t tell, wasn’t trying to at this point. He was focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other so that he didn’t drop dead. It couldn’t have been longer than a day since they got lost down here, but it felt like an eternity, and the withdrawal was in full fucking swing. Gavin could even hear that spooky singing again, from somewhere behind them, but Nines held his hand and led him forward.

What the fuck were they gonna do when they got out of here? Was there just gonna be a fuck ton of lyrium out there waiting for him? He was just gonna die out there if not in here.

No, no, he was definitely dying in here.

Gavin really hated it, having to lean on Nines so heavily, hearing that fucking song, seeing giant spiders in every shadow- fuck he hated spiders- and feeling like if he let his eyes close he’d fall down and fucking die.

That’s precisely what happened. One second he was trudging along, the next he was horizontal, and he couldn’t remember how.

Nines was really pretty though. That was weirdly all Gavin could think about. He wasn’t really processing what Nines was saying to him, but he looked pretty saying it. And kind of sad. Gavin wanted to make it better, he’d seen too many unhappy Nines faces lately. Maybe they should kiss again.

He did kind of want all that complicated stuff, it made his heart ache a little to think it. Nines was better, he was worth it.

The next time Gavin blinked, or passed the fuck out and woke up or whatever, Nines had the end of a staff, alight with purple electricity, pointed at his face.

Gavin didn’t care for that shit at all. He tried to get up, to say something or fight, but he couldn’t feel his legs or his arms or fucking anything.

And the next time he woke up he was alone in a prison cell. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely rare content: me writing porn. I hope u enjoy!

Gavin had been pacing around this cell trying to think of a way out for who knows how long. He sure didn’t- there weren’t any fucking windows, he didn’t know what time it was or where he was.

The cell was just a stone box with iron bars. It was old as hell, Gavin had tried breaking some of the rustier bars or knocking out any loose hinges, but it hadn’t worked. 

He still felt like shit, but less like shit than before. His head hurt like always but he could stand up and walk around and it only made him a little dizzy.

Gavin didn’t really care about all that at the moment though, he wanted to find Nines. Nines wasn’t in his cell, or the one across from his, and he hadn’t answered when Gavin called. He had to be somewhere else in this place, and Gavin needed to get out and find him and make sure he was okay. It was a little disorienting, feeling this anxious about being away from him. It made his inability to escape all the more frustrating.

When he heard a door creak open and slam shut down the hall he half hoped it would be Nines coming to his rescue. If not, it better be some guard he could bait into a fight, because he really wanted to hit something. And maybe he could escape, too, if he kicked the guy’s ass.

A woman stalked into his view and stood in front of his cell with her arms crossed. She was an elf, definitely a mage, and very grumpy looking. A kindred spirit, really.

“Ironic, isn’t it? Me out here and you in there. How’s captivity taste, templar?” Oh, good, she was one of those mages. Just what he needed.

“Skip the bullshit, lady, where’s the mage I was with?”

“Safe from you.” Oh, holy fucking shit did that piss Gavin off. It was a critical fucking hit, right in his fear and insecurity. The mage smirked like she knew it too. Distantly, under the reactive fury, he thought about Nines’s hurt expression at the business end of his sword.

“Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re right.” The lady came closer, clearly not concerned that he’d do anything about it. “I don’t. Markus thinks we can trust you, but we don’t know anything about you.”

And Gavin was gonna snap something snarky back at her, because he was in a shit-talking contest sort of mood, but he noticed what she was holding. He didn’t have to see it, he could hear it and feel it this close. She caught him glancing at it too, so she uncrossed her arms and showed it to him, a little bottle of lyrium. “I thought you might need a little extra incentive. Looks like I was right.”

The smile on her face was unbearably smug and Gavin didn’t care, she was right, he wanted the lyrium so fucking bad. It burned his eyes a little just to look at it and it felt like the shit was a magnet, just pulling and pulling at something inside him.

“Tell me what you’re doing here and you can have it.” The mage held the lyrium in front of him like bait.

“You put me here, how the fuck should I know why?”

“We found you in the catacombs underneath the fort. How did you get in?”

Fort? Were they at fucking Ostagar? That was the only fort he knew of anywhere near the Korcari Wilds. Gavin was in a prison in a long abandoned fort being questioned by a mage. “This- is this the fucking mage rebellion?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know. How did you find us?”

“We didn’t fucking find you, we fell into the Deep Roads by mistake and ended up here.”

“That was Nines’s story too. But I know you have orders.” She was intimidating, Gavin would give her that. She got that genuinely threatening tone just right. “So this time don’t bullshit me. How did you know where we were?” She held the lyrium precariously between two fingers, poised to drop it on the floor. And Gavin didn’t like that she’d mentioned Nines by name either, where the hell was he? Had they hurt him? They better fucking not have hurt him.

“I’m fuckin’ telling you lady, we were just supposed to round up some apostates. The Knight Commander even said he had no idea where the fuck you were. You’re the Seeker’s business now, congratu-fuckin-lations.”

The mage made a face like she didn’t believe him, but before she said anything else the door at the end of the hall opened again.

“North, we were supposed to do this together.” 

“That was your mistake, trying to convince North to wait for anybody.”

Four new people came in to view, all mages. One tall nervous fellow, one elf, one man with mismatched eyes, and Nines.

“Simon’s right. You were taking too long.” The woman said, grinning unapologetically.

“Is that lyrium? North, are you crazy? You can’t give that to him!” The tall one whispered like Gavin wouldn’t hear him from five feet away. He wasn’t really paying attention to them anyway, he was just staring at Nines. He didn’t look hurt, that made Gavin feel a little better. And he was doing that thing, too, the thing where he looked perfectly calm and collected and it made Gavin feel safer.

“Relax, Josh, one templar isn’t gonna kill us all.”

“What did you find out, North?” The one with the spooky eyes asked. That one had to be Markus. He didn’t have an authoritative air about him necessarily and yet the others seemed to orbit him.

North sighed and moved to lean back against the bars of the opposite cell. “His story checks out, but I still don’t think we should let him roam as he pleases. He could leave and go bring others.”

“I understand,” Markus said in a tone that was compassionate yet not yielding. “But we have to be better than hating him for what he is when he’s done nothing wrong.” Markus held out his hand and North hesitated a moment before placing the lyrium in it.

And then Markus pulled a ring of keys from his coat, unlocked Gavin’s cell and opened the door.

And Gavin wasn’t even a little ashamed that he all but tripped and fucking fell into Nines.

Nines caught him and held him and kissed him, and every fucking touch bled the tension and exhaustion out of him a little bit more.

Markus coughed sort of awkwardly behind them and Gavin was very tempted to just fucking ignore him. A little reluctantly he assumed his customary place between Nines and everybody else and asked, “so what the fuck now?”

“Well, we cant just let you leave,” Markus replied, still looking just a little bit flustered, “but we’ve been assured you don’t pose a threat. Therefore, you’re free to roam the grounds as you please as long as you remain in the company of your...friend.”

Gavin glanced at Nines, confused. Why the fuck did they trust him? Were they prisoners or were they just inducted into the rebellion?

“Just remember we’re watching you,” North added sharply.

“Oh, what the fuck ever-“

“Thank you for your understanding. We’ll take our leave now,” Nines cut Gavin off smoothly and took his hand. He let Nines pull him away but he held North’s eyes for a moment longer, returning her glare.

In the hall outside Nines led Gavin one way and the four mages went the opposite direction.

And Gavin really hadn’t expected Nines to shove him into a wall and kiss him the literal instant the others were out of sight, but he was super cool with it. It wasn’t the most comfortable wall, but Gavin was pretty sure he was gonna melt into a puddle any moment, so really it didn’t make a difference.

“I missed- I missed you too,” he said, a little breathless, when Nines apparently decided his neck required attention as well. Gavin tilted his head for it, fucking dizzy with how good it felt.

Nines caught his mouth in one more kiss and then moved as if to step away, but Gavin pulled him close again by the hips, not ready to let him go quite yet. The mage flashed him this coy little smile for it.

“They took you away from me and I thought-“ it made Gavin a little nervous how fast Nines’s face fell into something vulnerable, wistful and relieved and tired. Maybe a little shy. “I suppose I thought I might not see you again, you were so sick...”

And didn’t that just fuck Gavin right up. How long had he been unconscious? Had it been hours or days? How long had poor Nines been left to sit around wondering if he was alive or dead? After practically carrying his half mad ass through the Deep Roads, no less.

Gavin followed this weird impulse from somewhere deep in his chest to pull Nines’s head to rest on his shoulder and just hold him and stroke his hair. “I’m okay now,” Gavin assured him more softly than he’d talked in who the fuck knows how long.

Nines sort of tensed a little in response, seemed unsure what to do with his hands, then he let them rest on Gavin’s waist and relaxed into him with an almost shaky sigh that made Gavin’s fucking heart hurt.

And it was weird, how the butterflies and the nerves Gavin was feeling just sort of disappeared, leaving him feeling quiet and safe.

And then they were knocked on their asses by a big fucking dog. Really big, heavy, slobbery dog, what the fuck.

“I’m sorry! He likes hugs,” an unsettlingly familiar voice called from down the hall.

Gavin shoves the big gross dog off of him and sat up. “What the fucking hell are you doing here?”

“Taking Sumo for a walk.”

The dog bounded over to Connor’s side at the sound of its name.

Nines stood up and dusted himself off, then offered Gavin his hand.

“Of course you wouldn’t just answer the fucking question,” Gavin griped, taking the hand. And when he was standing he very hastily let go, because that was Nines’s brother, and holding hands in front of him would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?

“Connor arrived here a few days before we did,” Nines explained, and then he hesitated, looked between the pair of them, and said, “he’s since decided to...remain. And aid the rebellion.”

Gavin recalled that quip Nines had made about how the world would fucking end if his brother ever willingly left the tower and he snorted. Somehow, it was even funnier looking at Connor. He looked different since Gavin had last seen him, less boyish and more tired, but he still had a naive air about him, that ‘I’ve never seen trees personally, but I’ve read lots about them’ look.

He offered them a sheepish smile and it was kind of weird to see an entirely different range of expressions on a face so identical to Nines’s. “It sounds absurd, I know. A great deal has transpired recently...”

“He’s absolutely sick with affection for some old Seeker and its robbed him of his senses,” Nines announced, lamented really, making Gavin nearly choke on air because he simply would not have pinned Nines as the brat little brother sort. No, forget that, it made perfect sense.

“Yes, thank you, my sweet brother,” Connor was suddenly very interested in straightening his clothes. “In lieu of further frivolous accusations, shall we find something to eat? I imagine you’re quite famished, Gavin.” That was fucking eerie, too, hearing Connor say his name. It didn’t sound the same, didn’t make him feel the same, even though it was almost the same voice.

“I- Yeah, how- how long have we been here?”

“Three days,” Nines replied.

“You’re fucking with me,”

“From my understanding you have been only occasionally and just barely conscious.” That was Connor. Was this a thing they were gonna do? Respond intermittently? How long till they started talking at the same time?

That explained why Gavin felt like shit but not crazy lyrium-sick shit, though. The thought that he’d slept for so long was kind of scary, what were the chances that he just wouldn’t wake up? He really was hungry, now that he thought about it.

They crossed a courtyard on their way to the kitchens and it was a little unsettling just how many people there were. This rebellion was way bigger than anybody back at the tower had guessed. It wasn’t much of a wonder how they kept it hidden, though, nobody in their right mind went near Ostagar. The ancient fort was too close to the wilds, and a lot of bad shit had happened there during the blight, so some folk thought it was cursed.

Some people watched them go. Gavin tried to give back as many dirty looks as he got, news got around fast here apparently. Mages were shameless gossips. Nines hooked their arms together as they walked.

There didn’t seem to be a proper kitchen staff, or at least they weren’t around at the moment. There was just one person guarding the storerooms that watched Gavin suspiciously as Nines and Connor took what they pleased, clearly familiar with the space. They did a spooky little number where Connor tossed an apple over his shoulder and Nines caught it without even looking.

Seeing them together again was kind of surreal. It came with these kind of expectations that Gavin knew now weren’t true, this old impulse to dislike them that he didn’t want to follow anymore.

Nines pushed a very big loaf of bread and some cheese into Gavin’s hands and said, “start slow, please.”

“Where are you going with the rest of that stuff?”

“To make you a proper meal, unless you’d be content with raw potatoes?”

“At this point I fuckin’ might be,” what did Nines need to know how to cook for? Was that just another random thing the Grand Cleric made them learn?

“The dining hall is this way,” Connor hummed, clearly expecting Gavin to follow him and his big dumb dog. Alone with Nines’s weird brother sounded like dangerously awkward territory.

“I think they’ll throw me back in jail if I don’t stay with you,”

“You’ll be with me, as long as nobody looks too closely,” Nines responded, not even glancing up from the vegetables and things he was cutting.

Gavin gave up and followed Connor, because he really was hungry as fuck. Just what was he so nervous about, anyway? Maybe it was because normally his approach to new people was impatient at best, usually just plain hostile, but these weren’t normal circumstances- Connor was somebody important to Nines, so Gavin felt like he needed his? Approval? When normally he wouldn’t give a shit what Connor thought about him. This was precisely the sort of bullshit Gavin didn’t like.

But Nines felt worth it. Doing anything to put a pleased little smile on his face felt so fucking worth it to Gavin.

“Ser Reed,” Connor sat across the table from Gavin. He had the same sort of practiced grace as Nines, but different, more soft and relaxed. “I wanted to thank you for looking after my brother...he’s far more reckless and inexperienced than he likes to believe.”

“Oh, uh-“ Gavin took a second to actually swallow the bread he’d been stuffing his face with, “no problem.”

“You’ve made quite the impression, he’s never been so...attached to anybody else before. I admit it makes me a little apprehensive...”

Oh, shit, was this the ‘if you make my baby brother sad nobody will ever find your body’ talk? It didn’t feel like it. Gavin just kept eating his food.

“I hope you won’t mind me waxing a little philosophical, but...I’ve only recently realized how much we’ve been denied because of what we are and...how we were raised,” Connor fidgeted with his hands more than Nines did. He sounded awfully conflicted, especially about the last bit. “So I’m...happy to see my brother given the opportunity to have things we couldn’t before, as much as I’m afraid he could be hurt. These are quite treacherous times after all...” was he still talking about them, or about the rebellion? It seemed like both.

Gavin had never seen Nines as sheltered, at least not in the way Connor was describing, but Connor would know him best, wouldn’t he? He should say something, right? Something constructive and comforting?

“I watched him take a big fucking axe in the guts and just sleep it off, I don’t think anything can stop him at this point.”  

“Ah. My brother neglected to include that detail in his account of your adventures.”

Whoops. “Well, what I mean is- uh-“ Connor glanced sharply over Gavin’s shoulder and he looked back to see Nines.

“Oh dear, what have you done?” Nines sighed, placing a bowl of soup in front of Gavin. It looked...actually really good. Was he allowed to eat it before he explained himself? He was just gonna eat it.

“Only reminded me that my hair is going to turn grey first and its all your fault,” Connor responded, folding his hands on the table. Now he looked a little more like Nines.

“Maybe you should try worrying less,” Nines sat down next to Gavin, shamelessly close.

It was fucking scary how good and right it felt to have him there. Gavin had the strongest impulse to lean on his shoulder just because he was there, because he felt like he was supposed to be there. And that got Gavin thinking about all the shit Connor just said, how if he fucked this up he could do more damage than he thought.

He just nervously ate his soup and tried to put it out of his mind. It was really good soup. The twins seemed unconcerned with his anxious quiet, just bantering back and forth about whatever. Gavin could tell they’d missed each other.

A mage approached them eventually with a message for Connor- was that why Nines seemed to have so much freedom and influence here? Had Connor gone and scored himself some kind of status? It did sort of make sense, his involvement with the Seekers probably gave him some pretty useful information to leverage.

Gavin gave in to the temptation to lean on Nines’s shoulder as soon as Connor was out of sight. It soothed his nerves fucking astronomically to feel Nines’s fingers in his hair almost immediately.

“Still tired?”

“Mmhm,” Gavin lied. Well, it wasn’t totally a lie, he felt much better with some food in him, but his body still felt a little weak and slow, probably just a product of being out cold for three fucking days.

“Let’s go to my room, then, you can rest comfortably there.”

Together they took care of their dishes, Gavin insisted on helping, and then Nines led the way to his room.

Gavin went straight for the bed, holy fucking shit he’d missed beds. It was nothing like the nice feather beds at South Reach, but it was arguably more comfortable than his bed in the tower barracks. Nines didn’t join him right away, and Gavin nearly fell asleep again before he felt the bed shift under a new weight and hands on him.

“I’ve drawn you a bath,” Nines said quietly, pressing light little kisses to Gavin’s face. A bath did sound very nice, but he was awfully comfortable here with his eyes shut, shivering under every touch. He found himself grasping, dragging Nines to straddle his hips and blindly catching his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss.

“Shall I help you with this?” The mage hummed, making quick work of Gavin’s doublet with dexterous fingers and then pushing those perfect hands under his shirt. Gavin arched shamelessly into the touch, relishing every single point of contact between them.

With kisses Nines coaxed Gavin to sit up so he could push the clothes off of him, and Gavin tried to return the favor, but Nines’s outfit was so much more complicated. Fucking mages and their weird fashion.  

“How the fuck...oh, the clasps are in the back,”

“Your bath is going to be frigid,” Nines complained, amusement clear in his tone. He dragged his fingers through Gavin’s hair, pushing it back from his face, and Gavin really couldn’t explain why something so simple felt so fucking good.

“You better come warm it up for me, then. That’s kind of your thing, right?”

Nines rolled his eyes and stood up in the same motion, pulling Gavin with him by his hands. “Yes, the ultimate goal of all my years of study, the culmination of my expertise, is making water hot for you.”

It didn’t take much convincing at all to get Nines into the bath too, and Gavin crawled right into his lap without wasting any time, very intent on picking up where they left off.

He got a little distracted marveling at how soft and smooth Nines’s skin was. Sort of mesmerized, he smoothed his hands over the mage’s body, fingers catching and tracing the long, jagged scar in his side. It had only been, what, less than a week since Nines’s stupid duel with that Avvar? And yet the scar felt years old. The thought of that fight still filled Gavin with this guilty sort of anger, if he’d only been stronger or argued harder Nines wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Invigorated by that anger Gavin fisted his hands in Nines’s hair and kissed him fiercely with teeth and tongue and all. Nines could more than keep up, naturally, and of course just had to turn the tables by pulling Gavin more snugly into his lap and then sliding one hand languidly up his thigh before wrapping it around his cock.

Gavin broke their kiss with a ragged “fuck,”  shamelessly rocking his hips in Nines’s lap, and Nines took the opportunity to work his teeth into Gavin’s neck instead. It was kinda funny, their first kiss had involved water too. That was cold, gross cave water though. This water was warm, and the slow wet slide of their bodies together felt so fucking good.

Nines took more and more control, pulling Gavin’s head back by his hair to better ravish his neck and stroking his cock at an unwavering, slow pace, and Gavin was absolutely fucking melting for it, panting open-mouthed and shamelessly groaning in pleasure.

“Stay like this,” Nines casually fucking commanded, letting go of Gavin’s hair in favor of pulling his hips forward, leaving him no room to move. He switched his grip on Gavin’s cock, too, dragging his thumb under the head on every downstroke. And Gavin did what he was fucking told without the slightest objection, leaving his neck bared for Nines to have his way with and desperately clawing at the mage’s scalp and neck and shoulders.

And then Nines did something- it had to be magic, Gavin didn’t know what kind, he couldn’t even quite place what it felt like, it was just a pure, hot, intense sensation on his cock and hips and thighs. Nines caught his chin and pulled him down into a kiss.

Gavin didn’t know how he even managed to last another four strokes, on the last one he came hard, moaning and rolling his hips into that weird magic feeling. It was arguably the most intense orgasm of this life. The magic seemed to catch it and hold it till he could hardly stand it, only stopping when Nines let go of him. Gavin melted against his chest, and Nines held him and stroked his hair till he stopped seeing fucking stars.

“Why the fuck is sex magic a thing?” Oh, Maker, he sounded wrecked. It was a little bit satisfying, honestly. When was the last time he’d gotten laid like this? He’d had a whole string of one night stands after Jaime, but none of them had felt like this.

“Did you enjoy it?” Nines was being so fucking sweet to him, too, occupying himself with gently washing Gavin’s hair now.

“Hmmm...I dunno, was that the best you could do?” Coming back to his senses meant regaining some semblance of dignity, so Gavin couldn’t help but tease. The look Nines gave him made him grin, until the mage dragged a finger down the middle of his chest and that same feeling gripped him again, radiating out from where Nines touched him, making him gasp and arch his back. Gavin really, really liked it.

“Perhaps you require more experience to form a proper opinion?” Nines suggested, sounding just a little smug.

“Fuck- yeah, yes, that,”

Nines guided Gavin out of the tub and helped him towel off, giving him sweet little kisses, and it...was really starting to get to him. In a good, if not a little scary way. Nines was so good, and so caring and considerate. More than anybody Gavin had ever been interested in. And it felt real, it wasn’t just bullshit he thought he had to do to get laid, it was his natural sort of disposition. It was all giving Gavin this terrifyingly wonderful feeling- Nines made him feel special and he wanted to make Nines feel special back. He thought about what Connor had said before, too. Had anybody ever made Nines feel special back? He deserved it, he deserved it so much.

“Hey,” thank the Maker the room wasn’t all that complicated, they were having a really easy time wandering to the bed while clinging together and kissing, “has anybody ever told you you’re really pretty?”

Gavin just let himself fall when the backs of his knees hit the bed and Nines followed him, fitting nicely between his legs. “Do you want me to say yes or no?” Nines’s tone was so warmly amused.

“Alright smartass, I don’t know why I even try asking you questions anymore, I just- ah-“ Nines did that magic thing again with his hands, sweet Maker, the unfamiliarity of the feeling caught Gavin by surprise every time. Nines watched his face, looking all self-satisfied but also sort of...hungry. Like all he wanted to do was find all Gavin’s buttons and push them all night long. It was extremely hot. “Fuck- fine, fuck you, I won’t tell you how pretty you are.”

“Why do you want to tell me how pretty I am?” Nines tilted his head and his hair ironically fell into a maddeningly attractive arrangement.

“I, uh, just-“ boy Gavin was sure out of practice with this whole talking about his feelings thing. He knew exactly why he was saying all this shit a minute ago, what was that again? Oh, yeah, “I just wanted to make you feel special, and good, and-“

Nines’s expression sort of shifted from something lustful and amused to tender understanding, and that took Gavin’s fucking breath away even before Nines kissed him again. Oh, Maker he was doomed.

Of course Nines did that magic thing when he was spreading Gavin open on his fingers. As if fingering in itself and considerately warm lube wasn’t hot enough, he did that magic thing and it was a whole different sort of sensation on the inside. It had Gavin absolutely writhing, twisting his fists in the sheets. He never got used to it, it didn’t slowly lose its potency the more he felt it. Distantly he wondered if Nines could make him cum just with magic. Gavin had to try not to imagine it too vividly or he’d lose it right then, before he got what he wanted.

“Nines, fuck- please, hurry up,” Nines didn’t respond, instead he leaned down and licked a stripe up the length of Gavin’s cock. “I’m not- I’m not gonna last,”

“You will,” Nines replied, another casual order that made Gavin fucking shiver. Then he took the head of Gavin’s cock in his mouth, running his tongue along the underside, and Gavin had to focus really fucking hard to do as he was told. He still couldn’t help but thrust shallowly into the mage’s mouth. Nines seemed content to allow it. After another moment he pulled off but Gavin didn’t stop moving right away, and the tip of his cock smeared some precum on Nines’s cheek. The sight was almost too fucking much, Gavin had to stare up at the ceiling and try to take deep breaths.

“Just a moment longer, you’re doing so well,” Nines assured him softly, pressing sweet little kisses to his hips. Gavin ate that praise right the fuck up.

The magic feeling stopped when Nines pulled his fingers out, leaving Gavin empty and wanting, but he didn’t have to wait long. He really liked the way Nines bit his bottom lip as he pushed in, it made Gavin wanna haul him down and kiss his absolute brains out, so he did.

Of course Nines set the pace, he clearly liked being in charge. Gavin liked him being in charge, which was ironic given how this whole relationship had started.

Every single fucking place Nines touched him positively lit up, he really wasn’t going to last long like this. Especially not with the look on Nines’s face, and the way he was breathing, he was coming all undone just for Gavin.

Nines paused a moment, hooked one of Gavin’s legs over his shoulder, and as he continued with this very good new angle he pressed one magic hand between Gavin’s hips, and that’s what got him this time. He had to rescind his previous thought, this was most definitely the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Nines fucked him through it till he came too.

And then they were there, breathing heavy and looking at each other, and then smiling and kissing like the first time. And Gavin really liked this, really wanted to have more of this. He wanted to keep this.

He thought it again when he woke up the next morning with Nines all tangled up with him, he wanted to keep this.

That couldn’t happen if they went back to the Circle like they were supposed to. Gavin had sort of assumed that’d been off the table since Connor became a factor, there was no way Nines would want to work against his brother and put him in danger.

Gavin didn’t feel that bad about it. He’d miss his friends, and he hoped he wouldn’t run in to anybody he knew if this whole rebellion thing boiled over into a full-fledged war. Especially not Tina. Fuck, he really missed Tina. But he didn’t feel so bad about the idea of abandoning the Order itself and helping the mages. Before, he’d just wanted to do his job and climb the ranks, it was all he cared about. He didn’t give that great a shit about either side. But Nines made him start to feel like the whole system was wrong, and what Connor had said really got to him.

But mostly he just wanted to be able to wake up with Nines like this instead of exchanging longing glances across rooms and discreetly fondling each other in broom closets. Maybe that was selfish of him.

Under different circumstances, the idea that he’d be cut off from a steady supply of lyrium would make him hesitate to ditch the Order. Sleeping for three straight days had been a pretty fucking effective detox, though. Gavin still wanted it, but not as bad. He hadn’t even tried to take the bottle that North had, now that he thought about it, he’d forgotten all about it when he saw Nines.

He should probably still take it. Maybe a little more carefully, because, fuck, but it was just too useful to quit entirely. A little part of him might be proud that he wasn’t so thoroughly addicted, though. The Chantry didn’t own his ass anymore.

“I like your thoughtful face,” Nines hummed, apparently just waking up. He had this content, sleepy smile that was doing shit to Gavin’s heart.

“I like your face,” Gavin replied, gathering Nines closer to him.

And it was...really fucking nice. To have no immediate responsibilities, no mission, no duty. They got to sleep in late and fuck some more and eat what they wanted when they felt like it and drop snowballs on passing mages from a balcony like fucking kids. That part was Nines’s idea, not Gavin’s, but Gavin would definitely argue he got the highest score.

There was very little in the way of internal security, the pair of them could basically go wherever they wanted.

“As long as you aren’t an attacking force of templars, they really don’t care,” Nines explained, “that’s Markus’s oversight, he trusts his peers too much. You think he’d know better, being from Tevinter.”

A Tevinter mage leading a southern rebellion, that sure was something. Gavin supposed it made sense, a Vint wouldn’t have the same fear and hopelessness under the threat of the Chantry’s wrath drilled into their head from childhood. And he’d know what it felt like to be free the way southern mages wouldn’t.

“Really, we can leave at any time and I doubt anyone will stop us,” Nines continued, and the way he said it caught Gavin’s attention. His tone and the phrasing made it sound like it wasn’t some wild hypothetical.

“You want to stay and help, though, right?” It was a dumb question, of course he would, his brother was here and Gavin knew he wanted freedom like the demon showed him, because it sure as fuck hadn’t been wrong about Gavin, and they could be together here, why wouldn’t he want to stay?

But the look Nines was giving him was not very reassuring. “It’s...not a matter of what I want.”

Really, all that Orlesian bullshit training had paid off, Nines really had an incredible way with words. They’d spent all this time together, learning to trust each other and bonding and growing closer, and the way that Nines could just say a few words and put a million miles of distance between them again was. Honestly just a fucking talent.

“What the fuck’s it a matter of then?” Gavin tried not to sound angry, he wasn’t sure he was angry yet, just surprised and confused. There had to be a good reason for this, right?

“We have to be realistic, this rebellion wont survive. I...” Nines hesitated, looked off to the side and then back at Gavin, “the reason I’m here in the first place is because the Grand Cleric ordered me to kill the apostates we were to find, to impede the growth of the rebellion. I was even to kill you, too, if you proved an obstacle. The Chantry-“

“Wait, what the fuck? Were you gonna do it?” Was this like, fucking happening? It didn’t feel like it was fucking happening.

“I didn’t want to,” that sure was a reassuring response. Not.

“But were you going to?”

Nines hesitated again, why would he hesitate? And then said, “that isn’t the point. What I’m telling you is that the Chantry doesn’t care what it costs to end this rebellion as long as it’s done. If they become desperate enough they may just annul the remaining Circles and then send the templars to sweep the land until the rebellion is found and destroyed. And even if the rebellion grows and it comes to war, there’s no real victory. Either we’re defeated and killed or we win until the common people rise against us in fear of a second Imperium. The only way this will end peacefully is if the mages surrender.”

Maker, was Gavin even fucking talking to the same man? Mister ‘it doesn’t matter how many there are’? It didn’t feel like it, and now Gavin was wondering, and he really wished he wasn’t wondering, whether he really knew Nines at all, this was such a drastic fucking change.

“What- what about Connor? He said-“

“Connor will see reason eventually,” Nines didn’t really sound so sure about that, “he’s too empathetic for his own good, but he’ll come back to his senses.”

“What about you? What about- you and me? We can’t...” Gavin really wanted this to be like, a bad dream or a really bad joke, because he wanted it to stop before he got the answer to this question, “we can’t have this if things stay the way they are,”

Nines was silent for a second, with this hurt look on his face like Gavin was pointing a sword at him again, and then he said, quietly, “we can’t afford to be selfish, Gavin.”

“Bullshit, you don’t mean that,”

“I do.”

And now Gavin was really starting to get pissed. He felt hurt, and betrayed, and rejected, “No you fucking don’t, you’re just scared that if you aren’t a good little pet the Grand Cleric will lock you up in the tower with everybody fucking else,”

Even as the words left his mouth Gavin was already regretting them under how fucking angry he was. But he said them, and they made Nines’s face turn to absolute ice. And suddenly they were back at the beginning, when they didn’t know shit about each other except that they were supposed to be at odds, had anything really changed?

“Can you blame me?” Nines asked in that very specific tone Gavin remembered. Like silk, like a blade slitting his throat. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he really just wanted to hurt Nines back now.

“I fucking can, actually, nobody else wants to be locked up either. What are you gonna fucking do, huh? Run back to the Grand Cleric and tell her where these people are? What about Connor, are you gonna screw him over too?”

“You may martyrise yourself upon the nearest sword for the rebellion’s cause if it pleases you, Ser Knight. I’d prefer to prevent the whole world from falling to pieces.” It wasn’t a no or a yes. He always did that, he never just fucking answered a question. And he delivered it so impassively, like he was bored of their argument, like he thought Gavin was just being fucking stupid. It pissed Gavin off so much.

“Maker, I cant fucking believe I fell for your shit. I thought we- I thought-“ he wasn’t losing steam exactly, really he had too much. He was angry and hurting and it was overwhelming and he needed it to stop, “fuck, forget it, fuck you. You don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself.”

He stormed off because he needed to get away, and with every step his anger was fading and twisting into guilt and despair. He’d fucked up, he’d fucked it all up. He shouldn’t have gotten angry, Nines was just scared or brainwashed or both, and pretending he was a cold heartless bastard was just how he protected himself, Gavin knew that, because Gavin knew him, and he still couldn’t fucking help himself.

He should turn around and go back and apologize and take it all back but he was too fucking stubborn and proud. And he wasn’t wrong, anyway, if shit was going to change it had to be like this, the Chantry would never just hand the mages new personal freedoms, even if they surrendered. Especially not after all of this. 

Nines probably, definitely wouldn’t accept his apology anyway, because he’d fucked everything up. Maybe there was never anything real to fuck up to begin with.

Gavin didn’t really know where to go, he didn’t have his own room. And he didn’t belong here, anyway, the mages didn’t want him here. And he missed Tina. And he missed when shit was easier. So he took some food and lyrium and other supplies and he fucking left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been so excited to write this chapter I hope you enjoy !

“If we wage war, we’ll never win. Even if we survive the templars, everyone is afraid of us, North! Diplomacy is the only solution. We have to establish ourselves as a viable power and talk with them as equals.”

“The Chantry wont care, they just want us dead. They’re going to make this a fight no matter what we do, we have to fight back!” 

“Both options could kill us all, we shouldn’t be so hasty to make a move.” 

Currently they were discussing what to do next. It always boiled down to this. Josh wanted to be diplomatic, North wanted to fight, Simon just wanted to survive. And Markus listened to it all with a grim, brooding expression. 

Connor was familiar with the formula. Eventually Markus would break his silence and say something that would satisfy all parties. North and Josh would begrudgingly accept his suggested compromise and Simon would look at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. 

Personally Connor agreed with North. The Chantry didn’t care what they had to do, they’d purge every mage, rebel or no, just to keep control. 

And the people would have no sympathy. They could expect no help from Ferelden, nor Orlais or anywhere north of the Waking Sea, except perhaps from Tevinter. But the Imperium couldn’t be trusted, they’d surely just want more bodies to throw at their war with the Qunari, and desperate southern mages were just as good as slaves. They had to fight, or else they’d be killed.

It was scary, being so alone, and clearly they all felt it.

“There are still hundreds of mages left in the Circle here. We should focus on freeing them.” Markus finally spoke. It wasn’t an unwise option. If they continued to confound and undermine the Chantry by spiriting more and more mages out from under them, it might weaken them and drive them to act rashly. And that was their core goal, wasn’t it, freeing mages? 

“I say we show ourselves as a distraction to draw the templars away from the tower. That will leave the mages relatively unguarded, and we can send a small party to lead them to safety, then lose the templars in the Wilds.” 

Now that was an ambitious plan. Connor liked it. “Hank and I could infiltrate the tower with relative ease, our return is expected,” he offered.

North didn’t look like she liked that suggestion, she still didn’t trust them very much. Connor could understand. But Markus was just short of beaming at him. And Hank looked like he approved too, which made Connor’s chest feel all light. 

“Might I suggest that instead of running, we surprise the templars with the second force of mages from the tower?” Nines was normally quiet during these meetings, he still was, but it was a different, darker sort of quiet. 

Originally he had been of the opinion that the rebellion was doomed and could only survive if it surrendered, but he’d changed his mind in the days since Gavin had left. 

Connor’s heart was positively breaking for him. To all the world his brother would seem unchanged- the same cold, stoic figure, but Connor knew he was hurting. 

“And fight back against them? It sounds too dangerous,” Simon looked to Markus. Did Connor look at Hank like that? Was he that obvious? He hoped not. 

North had a big grin on her face, though. “If we beat them back we’d show everyone that we don’t have to be afraid of them anymore.” She was pleased to have Nines for an ally. They got on quite well, actually. They made a formidable, if not very destructive team, both being quite partial to fire.  

He couldn’t know how ironic it was that he always seemed to charm the angry ones. Connor would have to tell him the truth, what he and Hank had discovered, but the protective older brother part of him didn’t want to. Especially now, Nines didn’t need more bad news. 

“They’ll only see us as a greater threat, it won’t help anything,” Josh argued. Connor did admire his pacifistic ideals, he wished he could believe in them too, but it was hard when he knew the Chantry. He knew Amanda. 

“We can only hide for so long. If they’re going to make war inevitable, we should strike first on our own terms.” Nines made it sound so simple. It always made Connor worry when he talked like that; it was a very slippery and potentially lethal slope from confidence to overconfidence. 

“If anything, it may ensure that we don’t risk being pursued all the way here,” Connor decided to add. 

“It’s risky,” Markus mused. Connor felt for him, too, he didn’t envy the weight Markus carried. Everyone always looked to him to decide, and all of their lives depended on him. “A victory would boost our own morale and possibly weaken the Chantry’s faith in the templars. And Connor is right, the longer we can hold this place the better...” the implied ‘but what of the cost,’ was surely heard by everyone. 

“In the end, the templars may leave us no choice. We should avoid a fight, but if it comes to that...” Markus looked to Connor. So he would be expected to free the Circle mages, and also lead them to battle if it became inevitable. It seemed he couldn’t escape responsibility entirely. That was fine. 

“We should discuss a signal system of some sort,” he suggested. 

Nines wasn’t exactly avoiding him, but he didn’t stay to chat after the meeting concluded. Connor didn’t take it personally, but he did worry. This whole ordeal, everything that had happened since they were sent out on their respective missions, had created some distance between them. Especially most recent events- his brother was markedly more elusive since Gavin had left. But aside from that, it wasn’t distance precisely, more like...healthy independence. It was supposed to be like this, Connor wanted Nines to have other people and a life of his own that their circumstances hadn’t allowed before. But it meant Connor couldn’t always protect him. 

He just had to trust his brother would come back to him if he needed him. 

“Fuckin’ relax already, I feel like I need a drink just looking at you.” he felt Hank lightly elbow his arm. Connor glanced at him, just briefly, thinking again about dear Simon. 

He was most certainly in love with Hank Anderson. He’d been quite unsure at first, but at this point it was unmistakable. What else could he call the warmth in his chest, the light dizzy feeling that would overtake him every time Hank smiled at him or laughed with him or approved of him? It was extremely distracting. He would very much like for Hank to love him back, but he understood why it was improbable. He told himself it was fine, that he was content only to be at Hank’s side, in any capacity. He didn’t know how long he could keep telling himself that with conviction. 

Sumo trotted up to greet them from where he had been loafing about in the hall and Connor took the very welcome opportunity to distract himself, kneeling to give the dog a good petting and play with his big squishy face. He loved Sumo’s big squishy face. “I can’t decide which I find most perilous- impending war or my bereaved brother.”  

“Your brother, definitely. Hell hath no fury like a very pretty man scorned.” Did Hank think Connor was a very pretty man too? They had the same face. “And he’s, you know, literally possessed by a demon of rage. I think that’s the definition of hell’s fury anyway.” 

Ah, yes. Another thing weighing on Connor’s mind lately.

Just as Markus was possessed by a benevolent spirit that somehow allowed him to reverse the Rite of Tranquility, by coincidence or insidious design Connor and his brother were also possessed, but not by good spirits. They were monsters, abominations, and they hadn’t known. Connor couldn’t understand why they hadn’t known.

Now that he was aware of its presence he could feel it. In the face of the hopelessness and grief of others he could feel its quiet pleasure, drawing power from despair. And he could feel its craving for more, always, its soft, sweet voice encouraging him to seek out misery- or create it. 

Quite frankly it was terrifying. 

He must have been silent for too long, because Hank lightly bumped his shin with the tip of his boot. He was doing this a lot more recently, initiating brief, casual physical contact. Connor considered it progress. He liked it. “Hey, I mean it, quit fuckin’ worrying.”

Connor stood up again, straightened his clothes, and offered the Seeker a smile. “I’m alright, Hank. I appreciate your concern.” He really did. 

And he adored the way Hank became flustered at the expression of gratitude and meandered off, grumbling. 

Connor followed after him, as always, his contentment with such familiarity overwhelming his fears for the moment. 

 

Gavin wished he could say the Circle tower hadn’t changed much, but it had, and it was scary as fuck. 

There were markedly more templars. Not just like, more recruits, like the barracks were full and there were campsites on the island and around the lake, all templars. Spotting them from down the road had turned his blood to ice. 

This could only be bad. 

There were hardly any mages in the halls as Gavin made his way up to the Knight-Commander’s office, and the ones he saw looked afraid. 

Sweet fucking Andraste he hadn’t missed all the stairs. 

He would have just gone stomping in to Fowler’s office like always but there were a pair of Seekers guarding the door. He could tell what they were from the black armor, with the Chantry’s eye in white on the breastplate. Seekers were also a very fucking bad sign. 

Gavin tried to just finesse his way past them with a flirty “hey boys,” but the bigger of the two held out an arm to stop him. 

“Hold, the Knight-Commander is occupied.” 

What were the odds that Gavin could just pick a fight with these two, disrupt whatever bullshit they were subjecting poor Fowler to, and then get some god damn answers? It occurred to him that he wasn’t wearing his armor, that shit was lost in the wilds somewhere, he looked more like a mercenary. Or an apostate. 

He had Nines’s pretty white coat, he was wearing it when he’d left and he’d forgotten. Would Nines think he’d taken it out of spite, or because he was desperately pathetic? He felt desperately pathetic. 

“Guess I’ll take the location of the rebellion and go fuck myself then,” Gavin bluffed, shrugging. Like fuck he was gonna tell them that. 

The Seekers glanced at each other, amused for some reason. “You’re late to the party, love,” the smaller Seeker, an elf with an eyepatch, said, “it’s been found.” 

Fuck. Fuck, that meant all these templars- there were so fucking many- were about to march into the Wilds and massacre the mages. They wouldn’t stand a chance. How the fuck had they found it? Nines couldn’t have had time to send word. Had Connor...? He wouldn’t, would he? No, maybe it was some stupid villager wandering too far into the wilds. 

Maybe they had the wrong place. Maybe it was fine. But fuck, they wouldn’t have so many templars here if they weren’t sure, would they? 

Gavin was gonna say something, probably something shitty so he could get one of them to punch him, because he was scared, and he really wanted to fight something, but the door opened. 

The Seekers jumped to attention, because Lord Seeker Perkins was the first one out the door. 

Literally the biggest asshole to ever fucking live. He had one of those faces, kind of like Nines, except not as good. You could tell he wanted you to feel like you weren’t shit. Nines could make you believe it. Fuck, Gavin missed him. 

Perkins was in the middle of saying something, probably something dickish, but he stopped, because Gavin was standing in his way. Should he move? Nah. 

Of course Perkins was the kind of prick that expected everyone to orbit him like the god damn sun, so he didn’t move either, and now they were sat there staring each other down. 

“Is there something you need,” Perkins looked him up and down, the picture of fucking condescension, “recruit?”

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Oh, actually, if you could get the fuck out of my way that’d be swell.” Gavin put on the shittiest smile he possibly could. He hadn’t had all that much contact with the Lord Seeker personally, he’d only visited this Circle twice and both times he’d been a complete ass, criticizing everyone and everything. He gave Tina hell for just conversing casually with a couple mages while she stood at her post, they’d talked shit about him together for weeks after. Otherwise Gavin had just heard stories. Lots of stories about what a cruel, ruthless bastard he was.

Because he was somebody that spent lots of time pissing other people off like it was a fucking sport, Gavin recognized the look in Perkins’s eyes that told him he hadn’t lost his touch. It was very satisfying. Made him feel a little better, a little less like the world was ending. 

“Reed? What the hell are you doing here?” He heard Fowler call from inside the office. Gavin gave Perkins a wink and then stepped around him with a none too fucking gentle shoulder check. 

“Just reporting in, Commander,” he said, coming to stand in the middle of the office.

There were four other people in the room- a fellow Gavin didn’t recognize in Knight-Commander’s regalia with a really fucking absurd mustache, a mage that couldn’t be from anywhere but Tevinter, Knight-Captain Allen, and the Grand Cleric. 

Oh holy fucking shit the Grand Cleric. 

Shit, shit shit shit she was looking at him, she was looking at him and he was wearing Nines’s coat, he could tell she recognized it. Gavin couldn’t read her expression, but if looks could kill he was pretty sure he’d be dead as fuck. 

“This is the templar you sent to retrieve the apostates?” She asked, not addressing him but not looking away either. Maker, she sounded like him, elegant boredom masking wickedly sharp perception. 

Gavin answered her, “yeah- yes. All the apostates turned up dead,” he lied, because he needed a convincing alibi and he knew that was what was supposed to happen. Fowler looked disappointed to hear that- so he hadn’t been in on it all? That wasn’t all that surprising. He looked tired as shit, what had been happening here while Gavin was gone? 

“And what of the mage sent to assist you?” The Grand Cleric asked, glancing none too subtly at the coat Gavin was wearing again. It pissed him off, actually, that she wouldn’t mention Nines by name, that she asked as if she couldn’t care less about the answer. Nines was loyal to her, out of love or fear Gavin didn’t really know, but it had fucked up what they had, and she had the audacity to act like she didn’t give a shit about him. 

“Lost him in the Deep Roads. It’s a long story.” The Grand Cleric didn’t visibly react, Gavin couldn’t tell whether she believed him, but he didn’t really care. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” He turned his attention back to Fowler, because fuck this lady, Gavin had other fucking priorities.

“The location of the rebellion has been discovered. Lord Seeker Perkins will be leading our templars along with reinforcements from Orlais to go deal with it.” Fowler nodded to Knight-Captain Allen and the Captain saluted and left. “I don’t have time to go over your mission in full detail, but it sounds like hell. You can stay here and rest up or fall in to line, I leave it to you. We march tomorrow.” 

“Yes Knight-Commander,” Gavin saluted and left as well, hopefully in not too obvious of a hurry. Hell fucking no, Knight-Commander. He had to get the fuck out of here and warn the mages. 

Gavin was half way to the barracks to get some shit together when he heard his other most favorite voice in the fucking world. 

“Where she’s going is none of your fucking business, Jamison. Now piss off, I don’t have time to hand you your ass right now.” 

Tina Fucking Chen was at the end of the hall, standing between a terrified looking mage girl and Jaime. 

“It’s our orders, Chen, don’t be so fucking soft, we can’t afford-“ Jaime had the fucking gall to smile, to absolutely light up when he saw Gavin coming. 

And it almost felt nice. Gavin missed Nines so bad, and he hadn’t stopped feeling hurt and alone since he left, and he was scared, and all that made it feel like it’d be so easy to just fall back into something more familiar. For a minute he didn’t need sex magic and a face so beautiful he could cry, or thoughtfulness or devotion or genuine fucking caring, he just needed to feel good, with no strings attached. 

But thankfully Tina Fucking Chen, the bastion which stood between Gavin and every dumb self-destructive thing he’d ever almost done, was right there. She turned around and looked at him and he forgot who the fuck Jaime was for a second. 

Shit had been weird between them when he left, but Tina looked relieved to see him, even as she said, “god fucking damn it, you’re back. Now I owe Chris ten sovereigns.” Oh Maker’s balls he wanted to hug her so bad. 

“Welcome home,” Jaime added. 

“Fuck off, Jamison,” Gavin glanced between Tina and the mage girl. “What the fuck’s going on here?” 

“The Seekers have this place all fucked up. Mages aren’t allowed to move around on their own anymore, just in groups with escorts. It’s bullshit,” Tina explained emphasizing the word bullshit and narrowing her eyes at Jaime. 

“And she was alone, till you showed up. Look, if you wanna get tossed out on the street and cut throats for lyrium for the rest of your life, that’s your business, I’m just following orders.” Jaime gave Gavin this look, this amused ‘isn’t she being so fucking unreasonable?’ look. 

“Jaime, if you don’t turn around and fuck off, I’ll throw you down the fucking stairs. I mean it.” He added the ‘I mean it’ cause Jaime always looked at him like he was just being cute when he was angry.  

Jaime tossed his hands up in surrender, “alright, fine, Maker. Just get her out of sight quickly.” He turned to leave, and tossed this fond smile over his shoulder as he walked away, “I’m glad you made it back, Gav.” 

Gavin flipped him off. 

And then they helped the mage girl get where she wanted to go un-accosted, and then Gavin threw him-fucking-self into Tina’s arms the literal second they were alone. Had she always been this strong? Was this what it felt like to be hugged by a templar when you yourself did not habitually take magical strength drugs? Armor pointy, ow, ouch. He needed to get the hell back on lyrium already. 

“Everything’s really fucked up,” Tina said quietly into Gavin’s shoulder. It hurt his heart to hear her sound like that. 

Good thing he knew just how to cheer her up. “You wanna do something really stupid and dangerous?” 

 

They didn’t want to stop for the night, but they did it for the horses’ sakes. They were making pretty good time, anyway, they just needed to make it to Ostagar ahead of the giant fucking legion of templars. 

“Red lyrium? Perkins brought tons of that shit with him,” neither of them felt like sleeping, so they stayed up late talking by the campfire, and Gavin told Tina all about the last couple weeks, and she told him about what had happened while he was gone. It made him feel so much fucking better just to talk to her. “He asked for ‘the bravest we had to offer’ to take the shit, I knew it felt wrong.” 

“It is, I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with it, but it’s bad. I was ready to fucking gut Nines over the shit,” just thinking about that awful night gave Gavin a headache. Well, it hadn’t been completely awful, the kissing was nice, but even that hurt to think about now. 

“What happened to him, did he stay with the mages?” 

“I...I don’t know. He wanted them to give up, might have even been the one to sell them out. We fought about it, that’s why I left. I don’t know if he stayed...” he wanted really badly to believe Nines wouldn’t do something like that, wouldn’t screw all those people over. 

“All I know is that the Grand Cleric showed up one day with Perkins and a fucking Magister and suddenly we had all these new stupid rules to follow while we waited for the Orlesians to show up.” Maker, that must have been hell. Gavin wished he could have been there for moral support if nothing else. But it couldn’t have been Nines, then, it would definitely take more than three days to move a force like that across the Frostback Mountains between Orlais and Ferelden. Even if they sailed rather than marched, they’d still have had to leave before Gavin and Nines ever arrived at Ostagar. 

Could it really have been Connor? The fact that the Grand Cleric had anything to do with it was awfully incriminating. Still, he’d seemed so convinced that the rebellion was doing the right thing. Maybe it was guilt that made him change sides, after he’d sold them out. 

“Who the hell’s the Magister?” Had that been the mage in the Knight-Commander’s office? Gavin had been too preoccupied with all the other bullshit happening to really think about him. 

“Magister Elijah Kamski of Minrathous,” Tina put on a mockingly pompous voice, “I don’t know what the fuck he’s around for, but it can’t be good.” It didn’t make any sense to Gavin either. The Grand Cleric making friends with a Magister of Tevinter in the middle of a mage rebellion? There were some fucked up politics going on in the background, he was sure. All these people were playing a fucking game, and the templars and mages were their expendable pawns. 

“Did you, uh...see Gwenny there? And her friends?” Tina looked very focused on the grass she was tearing up with her fingers, shredding the stalks into thinner strips and tying them in little knots. 

That had been the girl’s name, the one Tina used to talk to all the time, the one Gavin thought she’d helped escape. “I didn’t, but I’m sure she made it there. There were so fucking many people, Tina, there were Orlesians and Marchers, too, not just our mages. They’re coming from all over the fuckin’ world.” 

Tina seemed content with that. 

It was overwhelming, and somewhere in the realm of terrifying to think that their whole world was about to change really fast. Shit would go nuts the second it got out that the rebellion was real, and whether the templars crushed the mages back into submission or got their asses handed to them, it was going to stir up more shit. 

“Do you...think we’re doing the right thing?” Gavin couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but see some merit to what Nines had been saying. No matter what, innocent people were gonna die. Who really had the right to decide whether that was fine or not? 

“Yeah,” Tina tossed her grass into the fire and scooted over next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Fuck the Chantry.”

“Fuck the Chantry,” Gavin agreed. 

 

By the next evening they’d nearly made it there. The Imperial Highway gave way to a tougher path through the Wilds, and at the end Ostagar would be standing, grim and lonely. 

Of course it couldn’t be that fucking simple. They followed the path, and the woods and the fog got thicker around them, and Gavin could have sworn they should have arrived by now, he could see the moon starting to rise through the trees. 

“Something’s fucking with us,” Gavin said. He could feel it. There was no way they could have screwed up walking forward in a straight line this hard. He felt like they were being watched. He kept looking toward the trees, searching for painted Avvar hunters or whatever the hell else it could be. Tina didn’t argue with him or jump at the opportunity to rib him, which had to mean she could feel it too. 

“Should we try going back?” Tina asked. Gavin stopped and looked behind them. He could only see back a few paces, after that the woods were completely consumed by the thick fog. 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s an option.” 

Tina nodded grimly and they continued forward. Gavin hoped whatever was fucking with them would come try to eat them soon, so they could kill it and move the fuck on. It was almost startling how bad he wanted to see Nines again. 

A few more minutes of wandering along the path and the trees started to thin around them. They broke into a clearing, occupied by a shallow bog.

And a house.

Just a cozy little hut in the middle of the woods. 

“Okay, now we turn around.” 

“Why? We should go ask for directions.”

“Tina Chen are you fucking shitting me right now?” 

She did have a big shitty smile on her face. Asshole. “What, you scared a witch is gonna turn you into a toad? I hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re already basically there,”

“Fuck you. We just so happen to stumble upon a house in the middle of this cursed-ass swamp when all we had to do was walk, like, half a fucking mile and you don’t think that’s weird?” 

“Of course it’s weird,” Tina hopped off her horse and approached the house, and Gavin had to do the same, because what if she got eaten? He couldn’t let her get eaten. “But what’s the worst that could happen? We get attacked by a fairytale? I think we can handle ourselves.” 

“You’re fucking insane,” Gavin hissed, because they were standing in front of the door now. 

Tina bumped him with her elbow and then rapped on the door and called, “Hello? Is anybody home?” 

“There’s nobody home, let’s fucking leave,” 

“Andraste’s tits, Gav, stop being a baby,” 

“Well, well,” 

They both jumped, and turned around. Behind them stood an old lady, presumably the denizen of this creepy swamp shack, and most definitely a fucking witch. “What have we here?” 

Tina and Gavin looked at each other, and then Tina said, with only a little tremor, “hi, uh. Hello. We’re lost, can you help us?” 

“Can I?” The crone chuckled, “I dare say I can. But why would I?” 

Absolutely a fucking witch. “We have to warn the mages at Ostagar that the templars are coming for them,” Gavin explained. Maybe she wouldn’t play fucking games with them if she understood their urgency. Unless she just didn’t care.

“Oh? Are you not templars yourselves?” She approached them, passed between them when they stepped aside for her, and opened the door into the house. She proceeded inside, and Gavin wasn’t sure they should follow, but Tina shrugged at him and went in, and he guessed if they were gonna get fucking eaten by a witch they should really commit, so he followed her. 

“The world your predecessors built, the world your faith demands you die for, balances on the edge of destruction. All of the actors have taken their rightful places,” the old woman was muttering to herself, meandering around the hut, making tea. 

“And yet you seem intent to cast your own roles, and quite pivotal roles they might become.” Gavin and Tina looked at each other again. What the fuck was going on. The witch’s voice took on a mirthful, ironic tone now, “satisfy an old woman’s curiosity- why betray everything you’ve ever known was right?” 

“Because it was never right.” Tina answered with a conviction Gavin couldn’t help but admire. 

The witch chuckled, “oh to be so young and bright. Hold that light tightly, dear girl, when the world loses its grip, yours will remain. And what of you?” The witch looked at Gavin now. Her eyes were yellow, which was creepy. What could he really say? 

“This stupid mage made me fall in love with him. Suppose I just think he deserves a better life. All the others might as well, too.” That was the root of it, wasn’t it? He couldn’t lie to a witch with creepy yellow eyes. Gavin was a selfish asshole and just wanted to live happily ever after with Nines, if the mage didn’t hate his fucking guts now. Maybe he cared more about it all than he let on, but he didn’t want to think so hard about it. 

The witch had a good laugh at that. Tina gave him this look too, damn, he sure had said the L word hadn’t he? Well, couldn’t take it back now. He could just hope that the witch ate them so he didn’t have to deal with Tina teasing the living shit out of him later. “A man once loved me, if you can bear to picture it,” the witch said. Gavin remembered Nines’s story.

“Everything I had I gave up for him, and he for me.” Her voice turned sad as she went on, “but that which I gave up would not give up me, and the gallant fool thought he could protect me when he should have let me go. Now here I stand before you,” she laughed again, bitter this time, “an old hag in the woods. Heed this old hag’s advice- when the moment comes, let go.” 

Was she telling him he was gonna fucking die? It kind of sounded like she was telling him he was gonna fucking die like her lover in the story. And then Nines would make a deal with a demon and burn the fucking world down. Which was sort of romantic, but he’d much rather be alive with his not-possessed boyfriend. 

The witch crossed the room again, rummaged in some drawers, and then she held out her hand and offered Gavin a phylactery. He had a suspicion as to whom it belonged. 

“Let go, but don’t lose sight.” she fell into a fit of chuckles again, her little old shoulders shaking. “Off you go, then,” she gestured at the door. Gavin and Tina shared yet another uncertain look. 

“Thanks for your...help?” Tina said, as Gavin opened the door. The witch just hummed and sipped her tea, staring into the fireplace. 

When they stepped out of the hut it was morning, and the fog had cleared. 

“I fucking hate magic,” Gavin announced. He bet the stupid hut was gonna disappear next. He kept glancing over his shoulder as they proceeded down the path, waiting for it to fucking disappear. It did, but only because trees were blocking his view now. If he tried to go back, he was absolutely certain it’d be gone, though. 

Tina was mercifully silent for a surprising amount of time. Then she got this smirk on her face and went, “soooo...you’re in-“ 

“Nope.”

“You’re in lo-“

“No.” 

“In love with-“ 

“Oh, holy shit, what the fuck is that?” 

Tina turned her head and looked where Gavin pointed, and he took the opportunity to lean over and smack her horse’s flank, startling it into running ahead. Sorry horsey. 

She managed to calm the horse and waited for Gavin to catch up before continuing, “you’re in love with a mage.”

“Yep.” 

“The one you were with?”

“Mmhm.” 

“The one you pissed off and ran away from?” 

“I think there was some mutual pissing off happening, it’s not totally my fault.” 

“Do you think he’ll forgive you?”

“I don’t know...” Gavin didn’t mean to sound so emotional about it, but Tina picked up on the shift in tone. 

“Hey,” she reached over and lightly shoved his shoulder, “if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass for you.” 

He knew she kind of meant it, and it made him feel kind of warm and fuzzy. “Thanks, Tina.” 

They slowed their approach as Ostagar came into clearer view, towering over the tree line, because it would be bad to startle anybody that could light them on fire at will. Until this point Gavin had been driven forward by this terrified urgency, this need to warn the mages of the danger surely marching upon them by now. 

But now he was starting to get nervous. He was a little bit afraid to see Nines again, to face whatever damage he’d done. He tried not to think about it, it didn’t fucking matter whether Nines hated him now or not, they were all about to have much bigger problems. Had Nines missed him? He was gonna have to apologize, at least. Apologizing was fucking hard, fuck. 

There was a shout from the battlements, apparently they’d been spotted. They could see the gates now, a party of mages was busy ushering in a probably stolen wagon of lyrium, among other things. 

As they drew even closer a very familiar silhouette stepped around the wagon, and for a second Gavin held out hope that it was the other twin. No big, dumb slobbering dog in sight, though. 

His posture implied impatience, he wasn’t going to come meet them, he was waiting for them. Gavin felt an unpleasant wave of shame. He felt pathetic, like he was crawling on his knees, begging Nines to take him back. Fuck him, maybe he didn’t want to be taken back. No, no, he really really did. 

As soon as he could see them, cold, impassive eyes lanced through him, pinned him in place like a fucking specimen. And then passed him over dismissively, as if finding him thoroughly uninteresting. North was apparently much more worthy of Nines’s attention, as she came to stand at his side. 

And Gavin couldn’t decide what he hated most- the way she put a hand on Nines’s shoulder and leaned up to whisper something to him, or the way she looked at him after he responded. The only expression Gavin had ever seen on her face was angry and suspicious, but this face was soft, concerned. It was selfish and stupid, but he didn’t like that somebody else had gotten close enough to Nines to look at him like that. Especially somebody who hated him like North did. Did they just hang around and talk shit about him together? No, that was a dumb, petty, paranoid thought. Bigger problems. They all had bigger problems, and Gavin fucked shit up, so he didn’t have a right to be jealous anyway. 

North threw them a warning glare, one Gavin did his best to throw right the fuck back, and then she left, presumably to get back to work. 

They stopped a gratuitously respectful distance away, Nines seemed nearly amused by that, the way he was looking at them. 

“Why are you here?” No ‘hi Gavin,’ no ‘I missed you,’ no ‘why did you leave,’ just right to business. Okay. 

“There’s a metric fuck-ton of templars a day or two away headed here to fuck your shit up.” 

Nines reacted to that, just the barest lowering of his beautiful fucking eyebrows. Then he sighed and strode off through the gate, presumably intending for them to follow. 

“Is that him?” Tina asked, whispering for some fucking reason. 

“Yeah,” Gavin replied. 

“I think he’s still pissed.” 

Gavin felt a miserable twist of guilt in his guts. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a little short, but hopefully enjoyable?

“The templars are coming.”

The mages had gathered at the steps of the Tower of Ishal, Ostagar’s central and most impressive structure, to hear Markus speak. There were so many that they filled the courtyard and spilled out over the bridge that connected the tower to the rest of the sprawling fortress. 

“I go to meet them, and I ask you all to join me. The world is watching us, and no matter what happens, we will show them that we won’t be controlled anymore!” 

At first they had been deathly silent, terrified. Connor could feel their crushing desperation as a gnawing cold in his chest. But Markus had such a gift for stirring their hearts, for inspiring them to find courage. Now the people were cheering, eager to defend their right to live free, no matter what. 

Even Hank had a smile on his face. 

He was so good. He was such a good man, and Connor couldn’t help but spiral back into fear, because what if something happened to him? 

They had to go immediately. The others were scrambling to stockpile supplies in the catacombs, where the children and the unable or unwilling to fight would hide, waiting to flee into the Deep Roads if their defenders failed. Markus would lead the rest to meet the templars. 

Connor admired that about Markus as a leader. Not only did he speak well, he truly meant what he said. He stood among his people as an equal and fought alongside them. But who could take his place if such noble dedication and honesty cost him his life?  Connor didn’t want to ponder it, there was already so much to ponder. 

He and Hank were to dodge the attacking force, skirting around and heading straight for the tower to free the mages that remained there. 

So many things were unpredictable. So many things could go wrong. What if they never made it to the tower, or never made it back? Ostagar’s defenders would be left without reinforcements. As it stood, they would already have to hold the templars off for far longer than originally anticipated. What if something happened to Hank? Could Connor stand to carry on? His brother was to remain behind and fight, what if something happened to him while Connor wasn’t there to protect him? 

He could feel the wretched creature inside him feasting on his fear, and the lingering fear of those around him. He resented the thing terribly, and that only made it worse, trapping him in an endless cycle of negativity. It wasn’t just a negativity he felt in his mind, it weighed on what felt like his soul, and it made his body cold. And bitterly, he was aware that it didn’t really make him weaker- on the contrary, the more the creature consumed the stronger they would be. 

He’d discussed it with Markus at length. It was a bit of a comfort to Connor that he wasn’t alone, but their circumstances weren’t quite the same. The spirit that possessed Markus was good, a spirit of justice. There could be no more fitting a host for such a spirit than Markus. The spirit supported his desire to free the mages, shared it, and through this harmony they were both made stronger. Connor felt constantly at odds with the creature that shared his body, it only seemed to aid him in causing harm.

There was one similarity- much like Connor and this demon, they were inseparable. 

“It couldn’t leave me if it tried, it’s been with me for so long that it’s part of me now.” Markus had seemed hesitant as he’d explained, as if he was trying to be delicate, to avoid upsetting Connor with such grave news, “I expect the traditional methods would still work, but in those cases I’m not sure if either of us would survive apart.” 

Traditional methods meaning killing the host or making them Tranquil. Or performing an elaborate ritual to send somebody’s mind into the fade to slay the demon itself. 

“So I may never be rid of it,” Connor sighed, feeling hopeless. It liked when he felt hopeless. 

He still didn’t understand how it had come to possess him. Normally people knew. And normally it wasn’t like this- the demon would be in control, wreaking havoc, not pliantly lurking within. 

Markus regraded him with open sympathy. “Maybe we can find a way yet. And...who knows. Spirits are as changeable as people. Justice has told me that every demon was once a good spirit, maybe they can go back.” 

It was nearly a pleasant thought, but Connor would much rather just be free of the thing.

 

Nines came to say goodbye before they left. With grace, but without hesitation, he fell into Connor’s arms, and Connor held him as tightly as he could stand. 

For a moment he wanted to give up. To take his brother and go back to Amanda and beg her forgiveness on both their behalf, and let it be just them again, hidden away from the troubles of the world. What did he truly find so wrong with that? 

He didn’t, if he was entirely honest with himself. It was true, he felt for the other mages who would rather fight and die than become captives again, he admired them, but he couldn’t truly count himself among them. 

It was Hank who believed in all of this, who had the strong moral convictions between the pair of them. And Connor wanted so desperately to please him, to be like him, to be so good. 

To be worthy of him. 

So he would fight for a cause he didn’t really care for, out of guilt, and a wish to become somebody Hank would admire. 

That his brother hadn’t yet tried to squirm out of his embrace, fondly teasing all the way, attested to how the gravity of all of this was not lost on him. And Connor was going to have to leave him to face the templars, afraid and lonely and angry and hurting-

“Connor.”

“Hmm?” He felt like a child, hiding his face in Nines’s shoulder like this. Just a moment longer, if he could just hold on a moment longer- 

“I expect you to return in no more than five days.”

Connor huffed a sad little laugh and shifted to prop his chin on Nines’s shoulder so he could speak clearly. “That isn’t a generous time limit at all.” 

“Not my problem. If I don’t see you in five days I simply won’t forgive you.” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Connor let his brother go, but caught his hands as he stepped back. Just another moment longer. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Nines rolled his eyes, let his head fall back dramatically with the action. It made Connor feel a little better, admittedly.

Not that he could let his little brother know as much. Then he might feel entitled to get in to all sorts of trouble. “I mean it.”

“Yes, Connor, I promise.” 

Hank was waiting for him. He had to go, but Connor didn’t want to say goodbye, to acknowledge in any way that this could be the last time he ever saw his little brother if something happened.

So he only let his brother’s fingers slip from his. Nines’s face seemed to remain unchanged but Connor could still see it, in the tiniest details that only he knew to look for, in his eyes, the panic he suppressed as Connor let him go. 

“Five days,” Nines reminded him, clasping his hands behind his back now. 

“I’ll see you then,” Connor agreed, voice tight, offering a smile that he hoped was reassuring. 

And once he turned away he couldn’t bear to look back, or he’d simply fall to pieces. 

Hank clapped his shoulder as he caught up. The gesture lacked its usual hesitance, and he let his hand linger. It made Connor feel immeasurably better. The old Seeker was making a face like he wanted to say something, but instead he just took his hand back and led the way. Connor didn’t blame him, he knew Hank wasn’t very good with words. Except for expletives, he had quite the gift with those. 

A determined sort of silence prevailed as they traveled. They went as fast as they could manage, eyes fixed resolutely ahead. Even Sumo seemed grimly focused, loping along beside the horses. 

Singleminded execution of a task, now that was something Connor found familiar. Familiar things were comforting, he could nearly forget all his apprehension. 

Hank and Sumo were comforting, too. They had become familiar. Connor liked traveling with them, he liked being with them. 

He liked sitting by the campfire at night with Sumo’s head in his lap and Hank beside him. Hank would sit a little closer lately. Connor liked that very much. 

 

All his fear came rushing back with a vengeance as he gazed across the lake at the tower. 

The ferryman had been a little suspicious of them, but Hank put on a stern face and threw some strong language around and the man folded. 

“This’ll be a piece of cake,” Hank muttered, leveling the tower with his own stormy glare as they crossed the water. “Me and Jeffrey go way back.” 

Connor didn’t point out that he knew that already. Hank would chastise him for being a creepy know-it-all. He had just thought it would be beneficial to do research before they’d embarked on their original mission together, that was all. He just smiled and nodded his agreement. 

This would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The tower felt deserted. There were no mages in sight, and only a sparse force of templars patrolling the halls. They eyed Connor and Hank (and Sumo) warily but didn’t question them. Seekers were not usually to be questioned, they did the questioning.

Connor tried to soothe his nerves and focus. Hank griping about the stairs beside him was admittedly a bit of a comfort. 

The mages would surely outnumber the remaining templars. If it came to it, they could take the tower by force. Hank seemed under the impression however that he could reason with the Knight-Commander and convince him to release the mages instead. Connor liked that idea, he only hoped the templars would comply. 

But she was waiting for them in the Knight-Commander’s office. 

As soon as they stepped through the door there were blades at their throats, Seekers, and she was waiting by the window, looking out serenely at the lake. 

“Welcome home, Connor. It’s good to see you safe.” Amanda turned to face them and walked slowly, elegantly to stand behind the Knight-Commander’s desk. Just the sight of her made Connor feel like he was drowning in guilt and fear. He had very clearly displeased her. He didn’t like to displease her.

“Hello Amanda,” he responded. Experimentally he tried to cast a spell, to move something in the room, to chill the air. Nothing happened. As he expected. 

“Where the hell’s Jeffrey? What’d you do to him you-“ 

“The Knight-Commander is perfectly safe.” Amanda addressed Hank but did not look at him, he was not worth looking at. That was something she’d taught them. She’d taught them everything, how could Connor ever have thought to deceive her? To defy her? He’d been such a fool.

She spoke to Connor once more, “You did well leading us to the rebels. I apologize for the subterfuge, but you must understand why I couldn’t be certain you would behave yourself.” 

So they had tracked him somehow. His phylactery, of course, he could see it resting on the desk. He had thought they’d given it to Hank, but there must have been a backup. He’d been such a fool, he thought again.

There had to be a way out of this situation. Maybe Connor could reason with her. Amanda could be cold and cunning, but she wasn’t a monster. She had raised he and his brother, she must have some love for them. She had to know, somewhere in her heart, that this was wrong. “Amanda, please-“

“I will give you one chance, Connor.” She paced around the desk to stand in front of him now. Hank shifted as if to step between them, but a blade shoved more firmly against his neck successfully deterred him. Connor appreciated the sentiment, anyway. “Only one. You will go join the other mages in the dormitories and wait for this to end.” 

“I- I can’t do that. Amanda, you must understand-“ he could feel himself withering under her stern gaze, could hear the weakness in his voice. She could hear it too. 

“Think _very_ carefully, Connor.” 

“You don’t have to be fuckin’ scared of her, Connor,” Hank snapped. Was his hesitation so obvious? Amanda glanced sharply at Hank, and Connor found that he didn’t like it. Maybe she loved them, maybe she really did want to protect them, but her own power would always come first. 

He’d wanted to go back just the other morning. But in truth he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to wander through another empty day of being nothing but an obedient tool, it didn’t make him happy anymore, it never really did. He had this little image in his mind, of himself and Hank and Sumo together and safe. He wanted that, he wanted it so badly. 

Connor stood a little straighter and set his jaw. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I can’t do as you ask.” 

She searched his face, for a moment looking earnestly mournful, then she sighed a disappointed, “so be it.” 

And then she buried a strange looking dagger in his chest. 

It only hurt for an instant.

Then an unbearably intense cold overtook his senses, pierced him to his very core. His trembling hands were turning icy pale before his eyes as his vision grew dark. The last thing he heard was Sumo barking and Hank calling his name. 

 

This many people all running around in an absolute frenzy made it indescribably fucking difficult to find one specific person. It wasn’t Nines- Gavin would actually rather find a fucking dragon than find Nines at the moment- he was trying to help Tina track down her friend, Gwen.

“Oh! I think- wait, no, that’s not her...” 

Gavin wasn’t used to seeing Tina this...nervous. Was she nervous to see Gwen, or afraid that she wasn’t there? It made him want to like, do something, hold her hand or something, but he was bad at that shit. So he just bumped her shoulder with his and said, “Maker, fuckin’ relax. You still wanna have all your hair when you see her again, right?” 

Speaking of hair, Gwen should have been easy to find- how many other people had bright orange hair? 

North had pretty bright orange hair. Not as bright, but the sun helped it out. 

She caught Gavin’s eye in a glare across the courtyard. Normally Gavin would stand his fucking ground, but right now he had other priorities that took precedent over being a bastard, so he tried to just look away and go about his business. Apparently he was unsuccessful. 

“Hey,” she stalked over, the usual hostile look on her face. It was making Gavin think about how she’d looked at them earlier that morning, while she was leaning all over Nines. Nope. Nope. Bigger problems. 

“The fuck do you want? You know, actually, I don’t have time for your shit right now, so how about you fu-“ 

“Relax, jackass.” North cut him off with a smirk, clearly pleased that she put him on edge so easy. Then she tossed her hair, took a deep breath, and said, “I just wanted to say...thank you. If you hadn’t come to warn us about the templars we’d be dead.” 

What the fuck? What the fuck. Gavin eyed her suspiciously, waiting for the punchline, but it didn’t seem to be coming. She just stared right back, challenging him to question her. 

And then her face broke into this smile, possibly the least malicious one Gavin had seen her make so far. “Hey, don’t worry, I haven’t changed my mind about you. You’re still on thin ice around here, asshole.” 

And Gavin was gonna say something snarky back, but he heard Tina fucking _squeal_ , and turned his head just in time to watch her bolt off and sweep Gwen up in what was undoubtedly an absolutely crushing hug. The mage didn’t seem to mind too much, her face was all lit up and people were stopping and looking at them because they were laughing. 

North was watching them when Gavin looked at her again. Her face was open and soft, like it had been when she’d looked at Nines, and Gavin didn’t know how he felt about that. It was a decidedly happy face this time. It was weird, and confusing. He didn’t really want to acknowledge that this person who hated his guts and had made friends with his? Ex-boyfriend? Ouch. Anyway, he didn’t want to acknowledge she had any depth that he could sympathize with. He knew it was petty and assholeish of him, but he just didn’t, he wanted to keep disliking her. For now. Luckily, that confusing soft happy look didn’t last long. 

A confrontational hardness found its home in North’s eyes again. She looked Gavin up and down and then said, in a detached, near defensive tone, “anyway, see you around. Try not to die.”

“Yeah, you too,” Gavin replied, sounding as unsteady as he felt. 

He thought about going to join Tina where she was, but decided to give her some time instead. Fuck knows when he’d been reunited with Nines after the whole Deep Roads ordeal, all he wanted to do was be alone together. 

Which reminded him, it was probably about time he stopped being a coward and go find Nines and try to make shit right. They were all about to march off and maybe die, after all. 

Gavin wandered slowly through the crowded fortress, looking but not really looking. He was still anxious, he didn’t know what to say, or if he even had the balls to say anything at all. Part of him was still a little jealous and angry after that morning, too. 

He got lucky- actually it felt really unlucky. He was about to give up, because he got the sense that if Nines didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t, and he didn’t want to resort to using the phylactery. But just as he was about to piss off and go hang out with Tina and Gwen, he spotted the mage, it seemed Gavin and caught him distracted. 

Distracted was a little too simple a word. He was saying goodbye to Connor. 

Gavin felt like a creep for watching. It seemed like a private, vulnerable moment, something he wasn’t supposed to see. Connor let go of Nines, and then walked away, and Nines just stood there staring at his back looking so fucking alone it hurt. 

And the expression on his face when he turned around was so unguardedly miserable. He looked heartbroken and exhausted and scared- and then he caught sight of Gavin and it all froze over. 

Very smoothly and decisively Nines turned and walked off in a different direction. 

Alright. Fair, still angry, understandable. Gavin thought for a moment that maybe he should just leave Nines alone, so he didn’t make it worse. But then he thought, actually no, fuck that, Nines shouldn’t be alone, he was sad and it hurt to see and Gavin wanted to fucking hold him. 

It was just the tiniest bit humiliating to have to hurry to catch up with him, fuck his perfect long legs. But maybe Gavin deserved a little bit of humiliation. 

“Nines! Hey, fucking stop for a second, will you?” 

Nines stopped, turned and looked at him, his face still an icy mask of vindictive disinterest. He looked impatient again, waiting for Gavin to get it the fuck together and come back to him- a real ‘I hope you know I could do so much better than you, so hurry up and convince me to keep you,’ vibe. Well, here he was, about to do his best. 

As if to really, really drive home that he couldn’t give a shit if Gavin dropped dead right in front of him Nines said, “is there something I can do for you, Ser Knight?” 

And Gavin tried really hard not to let it piss him off. Nines deserved to be as petty and mean as he wanted, Gavin was the one that had called him a selfish bitch and left. But fuck, he sure wasn’t making anything easier. It wasn’t easy to begin with- Gavin Reed didn’t apologize, it just wasn’t a thing he did. It would be so much simpler to fall back on old familiar ways, get angry and leave again. 

Bigger problems. He didn’t wanna miss his chance, and risk something happening to one of them, leaving it like this forever. Just the thought made him desperate enough to speak. 

“look, I get that you hate me, I swear I’ll fuck off, I just want to-“ 

“I don’t hate you,” Nines interrupted, looking vulnerable again for just a second. “And I’m not interested listening to your self-depreciating explanations. Please go.” 

Nines turned to leave and Gavin caught his wrist, not a smart move to pull on a man that could light him on fire or throw him across the courtyard with just a thought, admittedly, but whatever. “Wait, hang on- Nines, please, just-“

Deep breath, Reed. 

“I just want to apologize. I said a lot of stupid shit that I didn’t mean, I shouldn’t have gotten angry and I shouldn’t have left, I’m so, so sor-“ 

“Gavin, stop.” 

Gavin’s heart sank- of course he wasn’t entitled to being forgiven just because he said sorry, he knew that, but it was scary and it hurt to think he’d irrevocably fucked this up, that Nines wasn’t ever gonna trust him again. Of course that was his choice, and Gavin would just have to get over it somehow, but _fuck_ -

“I don’t want you to apologize. You were right.” 

For a second Gavin thought he misheard. Arguably nobody, ever, in his whole fucking life had looked at him and said ‘actually, Gavin, you’re right.’ He was always the asshole. Always. It must have showed on his face that he was having almost an existential crisis, because Nines lightly tugged his wrist from his grip and continued. 

“I was...afraid to disobey Amanda. And afraid of change. I...thought I had control in the world that was familiar to me, but you were right, it isn’t real and it isn’t worth clinging to. I-...I’m sorry that I hurt you.” 

There he went, making Gavin wanna hold him again. 

This was the kind of shit he’d been scared of from the start- he was a templar and Nines was a mage. If this whole rebellion thing didn’t pan out, what could they really do to Gavin? The templars didn’t have the power to execute him for being a traitor, they could only kick him out of the Order. But they could take Nines’s brother, his agency as a fucking person, his future, his life- everything. And Gavin kept forgetting that he wasn’t the only one who knew that. Of course he couldn’t blame Nines for being scared of it too, he always knew he was, he was just great at pretending otherwise. 

“Nines- hey, sweetheart, come here,” 

Nines obliged him, let Gavin pull him into a hug like the one before, with his head resting on Gavin’s shoulder. He melted into it so much faster this time. 

All the tension and guilt and fear of the last few days left Gavin in such a rush, it made him feel almost too light, like he’d just float off if he didn’t have Nines to hold on to. 

“I’m so sorry I left,” 

“It’s okay,” god, his voice sounded so tired.

“No, it fuckin’ isn’t, I was so stupid-“

“You aren’t stupid.” Nines stood up straight again and leveled Gavin with a stern look. Was it weird that it felt really good to be looked at like that? So, so fucking good. “If you hadn’t left, the templars might have caught us by surprise and killed us. But...I’m happy you came back.” 

Maker, no templar was gonna get the fucking chance to kill Gavin, cause the soft, shy smile on Nines’s face was gonna do the job. 

“Yeah, me too.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one went fast ! Hope u enjoy :)

The garden in winter was beautiful, although it made Connor sad to see the rose bushes Amanda cared for so diligently withered and brittle with the cold. What remained of their once beautiful blooms were surely laying scattered on the ground, buried in the snow. The initiates assigned to tending the garden had cleared the walking paths, showing just how deep the snow really was. More had fallen than usual this year. The fountain in the center looked lovely, water frozen in motion, spilling from the eyes and hands of Andraste. Her serene face matched the pristine, undisturbed white all around.

Connor had fond memories of the garden like this, despite his distaste for the cold. By chance, he and his brother had been here when the first snow of the season fell. They were just little children, and Nines had woken Connor up some time before dawn and begged to go out and play. He’d known Amanda would be displeased with them if she found out, but he’d never been able to deny his brother anything. Of course they’d been discovered and scolded, and Connor had caught an awful cold. Still, it made him happy to recall.

And yet, as he pondered the memory, the details became cloudy, eluding him as he grasped for them. Confused and a touch unnerved, he tried to pull them back together one by one. His brother had crawled into his bed and woken him up, led him to the window to show him the snow, begged Connor to go out and play with him and then Connor had said-

He had said no, not now, go back to bed Richie, the snow will still be there in the morning. And then he’d gone back to sleep, and they’d found his little brother in the garden frozen to death the next day, and it was all Connor’s fault, he should have just said yes, or asked Nines to stay in his bed with him. He should have prevented it, and the crippling guilt haunted him his whole life, it gripped him now, looking at this place. How was he to go on living like this? He wanted to give up, to curl up in the snow and die like his brother had. 

But he- he hadn’t. He hadn’t, Nines was fine, he was safe with the rebels, he was all grown up and brave and strong and clever and Connor was so proud of him. 

When Connor tried to picture him however, all he could imagine was Nines dead on a battlefield, run through by some nameless templar, just like everyone else he cared about. Hank and Sumo, they were gone, the rebellion was destroyed, the templars were marching across Thedas slaughtering every mage they found, Connor had failed them, he’d failed-

“Stop it,” Connor demanded weakly. The false memories left him, only the misery they caused remaining.

He looked around the garden, understanding now that it was a dream, or something like a dream. 

The demon was behind him when he turned. It looked like a beggar child on the edge of death at first glance, it’s too-thin little body wrapped all in faded rags. It shambled toward him, clutching itself and shivering, it’s face hidden in the shadow of its hood. And before Connor’s eyes it started to change, until he was looking at himself, but not quite right. It was deathly pale, its lips and fingertips were blue as if it were freezing. Frost bloomed in fractal patterns across its skin. The iridescent spectre of the hilt of a dagger protruded from its chest. 

“Hello Connor,” it spoke with his voice. 

He’d never seen it like this before, he’d only ever felt it, it’s endless hunger, it’s sadistic glee when it was sated. It had never felt so concrete before. 

“It’s good to see you. Do you like this place? I made it just for you.” 

“Why am I here? I should be dead.” He remembered Amanda had stabbed him. If that was the case, he should be gone, and the demon ejected. 

“I know you’re too clever to believe that.” It sounded amused, almost adoring. “It’s all over, Connor. The rebellion is doomed, you and I will be it’s undoing.” 

Connor stepped back as it stepped forward. “That isn’t possible,” he said. “I would never hurt them.” 

“We dont have a choice.” It nearly sounded wistful. “But you wouldn’t remember that, would you? Here, I’ll help you.” 

Suddenly they weren’t in the garden anymore. They were in the Circle tower, in the chamber often used for Harrowings. Amanda was there, as well as a handful of templars, and Amanda’s guest, Magister Elijah Kamski. He wasn’t much older than Connor and Nines, but he was apparently extremely accomplished. At such a young age he was already a Magister, and his research on the fade and the nature of spirits and demons was rather impressive. Connor had read over it in preparation for meeting him. 

He watched himself and Nines enter. They didn’t look surprised or confused or apprehensive, but Connor got the vague sense that he had been. They’d been summoned unexpectedly in the middle of the night, he began to recall. And he was nervous, but he trusted Amanda. She would never see them hurt. 

How wrong he had been. He watched as Magister Kamski summoned the demons, and everything he’d felt as they were possessed crashed over him. The terror, the unbearable pain, the _cold_ , the violation. _Don’t resist_ , Amanda had cooed, kneeling to stroke Connor’s hair as he writhed on the ground in inescapable agony. _It’ll go quicker if you don’t resist._

Something shifted then, as Connor lost consciousness, lost himself to the demon. The memories weren’t his anymore, the confusion and hunger he felt weren’t his. It was the demon’s, he realized. He felt its fury and indignation as Magister Kamski bound it to his will and forced it back, locked it away within its new host. It hated them all, it wanted to devour them all, but it was trapped.

“The blade released you, but you’re still bound to the will of its wielder,” Connor realized aloud. 

“They made us into a perfect weapon, incapable of disobeying her commands.” The demon agreed, sounding nearly amused. It grasped at the dagger hilt buried in its chest, but its fingers only passed through the apparition. “You never had a chance at freedom, not really.”

They were in the garden again. It was actively snowing now, so heavily Connor could hardly see the demon just a few paces away. 

“I must admit, I haven’t hated being with you as much as I’d expected to. Your little head is full of so many tasty worries, and you bring me such delectable friends.” It’s lips curled into a cruel smile as it drew closer. 

“Do you think your feelings for the Seeker are real, or do you suppose you only have them because of how terribly I’d like to eat him?” 

Connor could feel it’s delight at the doubt that pierced his heart. 

“I want to do you a favor for your kindness,” the creature went on. “Surrender to me, let me consume you so you might be spared witnessing all we’re about to do.” It offered him a hand. 

For only a moment, Connor considered it. Everything seemed so beyond his control, forces far more powerful than him were at work, it seemed to be his fate to be a tool, a weapon wielded against everyone he loved. 

But he had to try. Even if it was inevitable, he couldn’t just give up. Was it a coincidence that his mind was here, in the Fade? It was as if he was offered a last chance, a way out. 

For possession could be neutralized if one entered the Fade and killed the demon. 

It tilted its head as he often did, regarding him skeptically as if it had heard his thoughts. That was probably precisely the case. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, summoning his magic. It felt different here, brighter. He really was sorry, just a little. Neither of them were a part of this by choice.

“Very well,” the creature sighed. 

 

The Witchwood was a pretty decent spot for the mages to set up a base of operations. The cave they’d found was defensible, and the surrounding forest would make it even more difficult to assault. Templars would have a hell of a time maneuvering through them while staying in orderly little lines.  

They’d been on the march for what felt like fucking ages. Setting up and breaking down camp with this many people took hours, and even though they were covering ground it felt like they were going nowhere. 

Shit was even further delayed by the reports they’d gotten from their scouts. As they moved deeper into the heart of the Hinterlands, they were surprised to learn that the templars weren’t moving. North had even managed to sneak into their camp disguised as a servant. Gavin begrudgingly had to admire the balls something like that took. She’d found out that they’d been ordered to halt- they were waiting for something. 

So the mages had settled down as well. 

Gavin didn’t fucking like it. Markus didn’t want to strike first, he wanted to try to reason with the templars if he could, but above all else he wouldn’t be the one to incite the violence Gavin thought was pretty much inevitable. That was cool and all, but it left them sitting here, just waiting for the templars to come fuck them up. 

They weren’t entirely idle, at least. Tina had had the bright idea to try to teach some mages how to fight with proper weapons, so they might stand half a chance when their magic was cut off. 

Gavin was absolutely not the teaching sort, but he hung back and observed. It was clever, what Tina was doing. Templars were taught a particular style of fighting, with specific moves. They had names and shit, but Gavin had forgotten them (fuck did he need to know the names for as long as he could _do_ them?) It was sort of like how Orlesian chevaliers were trained, except more utilitarian. Instead of teaching the mages all that shit, which would take forever, she was trying to show them how to identify it and how to counter it. It was smart as fuck, and some of the mages were starting to look like they could handle themselves. 

“Why aren’t you over there?” Gavin asked Nines beside him. “What’s your plan for when a templar shuts you off and runs at you with a sword?” 

“I thought I’d bat my eyelashes and ask them very nicely to lay down and die,” Nines responded, sarcasm heavy in his tone. 

If there was one good thing about all this waiting, it was that Gavin got to spend every damn moment of it with Nines. He still felt a little guilty for having left, but he was doing his best to make up for it, which wasn’t as painful as it sounded. He’d tell Nines he was pretty and pick him flowers and kiss him and take his cock all fucking night even if he didn’t have anything to apologize for, because it was god damn wonderful. He wanted this to be his fucking life forever. 

Part of him wanted this war bullshit over with so he didn’t have to worry about it anymore, and part of him didn’t want the waiting to end, because just for the moment he and Nines were together and safe and everything was fine. 

“Oh please. I know it’s hard to hear, but not everybody on the fuckin’ planet’s in love with you. Seriously, though, I might not be close enough to protect you if somethin’...happens.” Wasn’t that a scary fucking thought? He’d been kind of trying to avoid thinking about that part of the coming fight- how he was supposed to keep Nines safe, what he would do if he couldn’t. 

“I know how to use a sword, Ser Knight.” Nines practically scoffed. Then the corner of his mouth curled in a sly little smile that made Gavin fucking shiver as he added, “just as well as you, in fact. From all I’ve seen of you, I’d even dare say better.” 

“Oh, you think fuckin’ so, huh? You don’t know who you’re messin’ with, sweetheart, let’s go.” Gavin knew Nines had to be pulling something on him, but he was arguably physically incapable of backing down from a challenge. He made for the sparring ground Tina had cleared, and Nines followed after him at a far more leisurely pace. 

Gavin payed close attention to the blade he picked. It was one built wicked sharp and sturdy for biting right through plate and mail, but it was too light and thin to absorb much shock blocking. And of course, he didn’t bother to pick up a shield. That suited Nines, Gavin thought, feeling a grin on his face already. Who the fuck cares about defending if you can just poke the other person full of holes first? 

_Gavin_  would use a shield, obviously, because he liked living. And a way more balanced sword, something he could adapt to any situation. 

“Go on then,” Nines hummed. Gavin knew better than to underestimate his very casual stance. He remembered the fight with the Avvar, Nines didn’t like to lose, but he did like to play games. 

Gavin learned a few more things very quickly as they began- that Nines was stronger than he looked, and extremely _precise_. A tad flourishy, of-fucking-course, but controlled where someone else might be off balance or left open using a blade like his. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter. 

All Gavin could do for the moment was try to block every strike. He could tell Nines was still screwing with him, too. One stab that just nicked his ear, one smart rap on his knee, the little shit even hit his ass with the flat of the blade as he ducked under a swing. Gavin couldn’t be pissed at him, though, not when he saw the grin on his face. He’d done this with the Avvar too, throwing those little fireballs around. And of course Gavin remembered what _that_ had earned him. It had been cute then, too, though. Before he’d been nearly cleaved in half. 

But back to business. Gavin couldn’t just lose cause his boyfriend was being fucking cute. 

Nines was reckless and prone to overconfidence, he knew that. He didn’t flinch from pain, and he was strong, but not as strong as Gavin, not as sturdy, and not wearing nearly as much armor. 

So the next time he went for one of those cheeky little jabs, Gavin bashed the blade aside with his shield, then shouldered Nines in the chest and swept his legs from under him. 

And _still_ Gavin was the one that ended up on his ass before he could even begin to think of how he was gonna gloat, because the mage melted into flames before he hit the ground and then laid Gavin the fuck out with a burst of force when he rematerialized. 

Now he was sitting there straddling Gavin’s waist looking far too pleased with himself, like a cat with a mouthful of canary. 

“Asshole,” Gavin groused. He flipped them and Nines only giggled, letting it happen, apparently selectively helpless. 

“You could have stopped me,” the mage chided fondly, once again dashing any chance Gavin had at being angry at him with nothing but his smile. He did look wonderful like this, a little breathless and his hair tousled. 

Gavin _could_ have stopped him. He’d started taking lyrium again, much less than before, but enough to cancel magic. Still...”I dont want to...do that to you.” 

If a mage were really trying to murder him, sure, he’d do it then, but it didn’t feel right to use that power on somebody like Nines. It didn’t feel right to just take something that was a _part of who he was_ and throttle it. 

Nines seemed to get that without Gavin having to explain it, the way his eyes got all soft and lovey. 

“You might not have heard it, but I telepathically made a bet with you that you’d lose. Still counts. Good show, though,” Tina said as she approached, with a big grin on her face. 

“I didn’t fuckin’ lose, this prick cheated,” Gavin replied, pointing an accusing finger at Nines’s face. Nines only raised his eyebrows innocently.

Although the mage looked quite content under Gavin, which Gavin was very interested in exploring later, privately, at the moment he figured they ought to get off the ground. So he stood up, and helped Nines stand after him. 

The mage dusted off his coat like the dainty little princess he was. It wasn’t the usual white one, Gavin still had that one. This one was new. Gavin could swear he’d seen the precise color of the thing somewhere before, this shade of wine red. 

“That’s alright, you probably owe me ten sovereigns for some shit I’ve forgotten about,” Tina hummed, glancing out over the sparring ground at all her students. She looked happy, which made Gavin feel all fucking proud of her and shit. 

“You’re doin’ pretty good out here, Chen,” he said casually.

“Indeed, I imagine morale is up, as well as combat effectiveness,” Nines added. 

That was a good point, Gavin could see all the people practicing looked happy. He felt kind of happy too, less stressed than before. That had been Nines’s evil scheme, he realized. He’d been trying to cheer Gavin up, distract him from boredom and anxiety. He took the mage’s hand and fucking held it for that. 

“Thanks, boys,” Tina beamed at them. 

Gavin opened his mouth to say something, but a sort of shift in the atmosphere distracted him. It started with a murmur, a mild commotion across the way, then people started to pause in their sparring matches and look. It wasn’t an uproarious clamor, everyone seemed quietly transfixed on whatever was happening instead. 

Nines was frowning when Gavin glanced at him. He led the way to investigate, still holding Gavin’s hand. 

A pair of templar scouts were being led through camp. They were in full armor, helmets and all. Markus came to meet them, they exchanged words, and the templars were led away. From the grim expression on the mage leader’s face, it was time to get the party started. 

Gavin couldn’t tell if he was excited or apprehensive. Maybe both. He was gripping Nines’s hand so much tighter than before, but the mage didn’t seem to mind. Gavin loved him so fucking much. _You hear that, Maker?_ He thought. _Don’t you dare take this beautiful fucking bastard away from me._

The sun was setting as they all moved out. It was hard not to be intimidated by templars waiting for them at the Crossroads, arranged in perfect formation. There were so fucking _many_ of them. 

Something felt wrong, too. Even at this distance Gavin could hear the red lyrium singing somewhere among the sea of templars. He had no idea what that shit could do, was it really stronger than normal lyrium? Did it grant the templars different powers? Could it drive him mad like before? 

He had to stop worrying and focus. There wasn’t much cover here, Gavin noticed. The mages would have free range, but so would the templar archers. _If_ it came to a fight, that was. Maybe Markus would hit the templars with one of his legendary speeches and change their minds. That sure would be nice. 

But the Lord Seeker was the one who came forward to meet him in the middle. There would be no reasoning with that prick, Gavin knew. 

Tina knew it too, she met Gavin’s eyes from where she was standing beside him. It was a comfort to have her there. Tina always made him feel like he could do fucking anything. 

And Nines was holding his hand again. There were about a million things Gavin wanted to say to him right then, just in case he never got the chance, but he couldn’t think of the words, all he had in his head were abstract feelings. He loved Nines so _fucking much_. What a stupid time to be incapable of saying it out loud. 

It started to snow as Perkins turned and walked away.

A hush fell over the mages as they watched Markus return. Even the wind seemed afraid to blow.

“The templars have offered us a choice: surrender or death.” He sounded determined, grimly resolved. “It’s time to show them that we are not afraid. If we must die today, then we will die free.” 

It was sort of calming to know for sure. Now it was just like any other fight Gavin had ever been in, they won or they died. 

The mages cheered for Markus, for their freedom and all that. The uproar was sort of calming, too. Uplifting, even. If the mages has anything on the templars, it was spirit and conviction. Tina was smiling. Nines was still holding Gavin’s hand. 

Something happened, though, that cut all those warm fuzzy feelings right off. 

A powerful gale of freezing wind ripped across the battlefield from behind the templars. Gavin could see how it rattled them, how it laid the grass flat before it even hit their side. People stumbled back into those standing behind them, the shouting turned from joyous to frightened. Then the snow started to fall heavier until it was almost blinding, the wind making the snowflakes feel like needles. The temperature continued to drop, and Gavin felt _bad_. 

He was dizzy and sick and he felt like something had punched through him and ripped the hope right out, leaving a big empty hole. 

“What the fuckin’ hell is this,” fuck, it hurt to breathe air this cold. 

Through the snow Gavin could just barely see the expression on Nines’s face shift from confused to dawning horror and heartbreak. It made Gavin’s blood run cold so much faster than this freakish weather ever could. 

“This is Connor.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who the heck proofreads anyway?

Fights were one thing.

Gavin had been in a lot of fights. 

From sophisticated duels with ex-chevalier mercenaries to brawls with back alley thieves, he’d seen arguably more than his share. 

This, though, a _battlefield_ , this was something different. 

The sound was probably the worst part. Lots of shouting and screaming, lots of gross dying noises, lots of metal hitting shit, and the sound spells made too- that whoosh and crack of empty space replaced by something that shouldn’t be there. It never stopped being overwhelming. 

Gavin had lost sight of Tina at some point. He hoped she was okay, but he couldn’t go look for her if he wanted to. All he could see in this blizzard was every other bastard that tried to run him through, and Nines. Or his fiery path through enemy lines, rather. 

He was going straight for Connor, obviously. Gavin had known what he was gonna do the second he’d seen that look on Nines’s face. Maybe later, looking back, Gavin would think it was cute that his boyfriend had a genuine, identifiable ‘I’m about to do something fucking stupid’ face. 

He made that face, and the literal next instant he was crashing through the templar forces, burning everything in his path. There was none of that cute playful bullshit now, he was just dashing from target to target, leaving a charred crater and burned bodies in each spot he landed, and Gavin was doing his best to keep up. 

The movement was easy to get used to even if the sound wasn’t. It was constant and methodical. Keep going forward, dodge a swing, give one back, block, slash, stab. Never stop going forward. 

Somebody had to get to Connor and stop this magic blizzard. It wasn’t even just a blizzard anymore. Seemingly randomly, jagged spires of ice would erupt from the ground, scattering everyone in their way. Some unlucky bastards even got impaled on the ends. It was cold as _fuck_. Gavin was sure if he stopped moving for even a second he’d just freeze in place. He’d run past a number of templars and mages alike rendered sculpturesque by this fucked up magic. There was that dizzyingly _wrong_ feeling too, like at South Reach, that pressure that felt like it was outside and inside Gavin’s head all at once. It was heavier here, like the cold was trying to hold him down and squeeze him into nothing. Like it was coaxing him to give up. It seemed impossible to believe that _Connor_ was doing this. 

It pissed Gavin off, actually. 

Connor wouldn’t want this, he wouldn’t want to be possessed by a fucking demon and turned loose on his friends. Those hypocritical bastards were _making_ him do this, they were _using_ him. And if Gavin was pissed, Nines had to be _livid_. Gavin didn’t envy the assholes waiting for them at the end of this. 

Speaking of, it looked like Nines was slowing down. Of course he was, did the crazy fuck think he was invincible? That he could just stomp all the way through enemy lines without running out of energy? The points of impact were getting closer together, the damage was less severe, _Maker_ what if he was hurt? Gavin hoped he wasn’t fucking hurt. 

Through the snow Gavin could see him fending off a templar. He didn’t look hurt, but the templar must be suppressing his magic. Gavin raced off to go help, but something else caught his attention. He felt it before he saw it. He felt that dark need tugging him, heard the singing. He looked toward the source and could just barely see a shadow, another templar charging at Nines from behind. 

Gavin cursed and pushed himself to move faster, to intercept the bastard. He crashed into the templar from the side, fully expecting to take them both to the ground. What happened instead was that the templar stumbled, found his footing, and then practically _threw_ Gavin away from him. 

“Maker, are you shitting me?” 

Gavin knew that voice. He scrambled to his feet and stood stubbornly in the templar’s way. He had a chunk of the red lyrium embedded in his armor. It stung to look at the thing. 

“You’re not gonna lay a fucking hand on him, Jaime.” 

Jaime laughed and unlatched his helmet with one hand, prying it off and tossing it aside. Fucking drama queen. 

He looked different. He looked sick, in every sense of the word. His veins were so full of the red stuff they were glowing under his skin, and he seemed bigger than before. 

“You’re not seriously turning on your own for a piece of ass, are you Gav? Don’t be fucking stupid,” Jaime held his sword casually at his side, like they were bantering across the practice ground instead of standing in the middle of a battle. 

“Don’t talk like you’re hot shit, Jamison, it’s pathetic. Leave us alone.” Gavin didn’t have time to sit here in some petty verbal slap fight. He needed to help Nines. 

Jaime shook his head, smiling. He never fucking took Gavin seriously, ever. “I’m gonna give you one chance to walk away, Gav.”

Yeah, like fuck that was gonna happen. Gavin stood his ground more squarely, pointing his sword at Jaime. 

Jaime scowled and charged forward without another word. Maker’s  _balls_ , he was so _strong_. Gavin gave up blocking and did his best to dodge instead, to avoid breaking his fucking wrists. Luckily Jaime wasn’t hard to predict, he still fought like himself, even if he was all powered up. 

That meant Gavin knew just when and where to hit him, too, but not one strike seemed to faze him, it was like he couldn’t feel pain. He just kept pushing forward, driving Gavin back. 

The wind blew hard, knocking them both off their balance for one blessed second, and then one of those ice spires shot out of the ground. Gavin toppled backwards to avoid it, then rolled out of the way of Jaime’s greatsword the next instant. Before he could even get to his feet, Jaime was on him again, kicking him back to the ground. 

As he raised his sword over his head a fireball hit him square in the chest, sending him flying. 

Gavin whipped his head around to look back at Nines. One of his hands was outstretched, having just cast the spell, the other was clutching that first templar by the face of their helmet as they knelt limply at his feet. The metal was white hot and melting under his hand. 

Gavin didn’t even have a second to feel any sort of way about the visual, it was gone in an instant. Nines vanished and reappeared right on top of Jaime, the explosive impact sending him tumbling away again. And still, he got to his feet just as Gavin did. 

He looked a fucking mess, bruised and bloody and singed and dragging his sword behind him. The red lyrium embedded in his armor was glowing so bright Gavin could hear it. The next fireball Nines launched at Jaime put him on his ass again and this time he didn’t get up. 

Gavin had to marvel at the way the sight of Nines’s face could make him feel like they were the only two people in the world. For a second they just stared at each other, catching their breath, and Gavin wanted really badly to be touching Nines in some capacity. 

The mage turned away to go resume his rampage, saying, “you should go back.” 

Wasn’t that just the most melodramatic, self-righteous bullshit Gavin had ever heard. “Like hell, you prick. The only way you’re getting rid of me is if you kill me yourself.” 

Nines’s face broke into something impossibly affectionate for that and it nearly distracted Gavin so badly he didn’t notice what was going on over Nines’s shoulder. 

But he did. He nearly wished he hadn’t, it wasn’t pretty. Jaime got to his feet, took a step, stumbled and fell again, and then he started to change. He was just a silhouette in the blizzard, and with painful jerks that silhouette grew and grew impossibly large, into a shape that was frighteningly familiar. 

Gavin snatched Nines’s hand and pulled him along, they needed to fucking _go_. 

With an ear splitting roar the newly transformed lyrium monster thundered after them, its massive footfalls shaking the ground. An ice spire sprouted in its way and it just crashed through the thing, not even slowed. 

There was nowhere to hide, no stairs, no maze of hallways, no endless chasm. The thing would overtake them here, at this rate. They’d have to turn and fight instead. 

They didn’t even have to talk about it. Nines dashed off in some random direction and started throwing fire at the lyrium monster, distracting it so Gavin could move in and hit it. It was surprisingly brittle, a couple good swings sent shards of it flying. He might even be able to shatter its legs, if he had time. 

But Gavin didn’t have time, the thing finally found its bearings and realized it wasn’t going to be able to do anything about Nines, so it started to ignore him and focus on Gavin. He was absolutely certain if it managed to land one blow that would be the end of him. Every time it’s massive crystalline arms hit the ground instead of him he could feel the impact shake the earth under his feet. 

It was throwing him off balance, actually, and he knew he was fucked before he even stumbled. Just that one, tiny screw up, and now he was doomed. 

But the monster was wrenched back suddenly, its legs snatched from under it, its massive body dragged back through the snow. It screeched and struggled, but it’s weakened legs finally broke under it, leaving it thrashing on the ground. Nines was standing behind it. It almost looked like it was hurting him to keep it down like this. 

So Gavin hurried, he rushed forward, slid under one of its frenzied swings, and then thrust his sword through its head. 

It didn’t go limp or anything like that. It stayed perfectly still, it’s face frozen in a furious roar, but It’s bright red glow was dimmed to a dull crimson and it was rapidly going cold. 

For just a second Gavin felt bad for Jaime. He deserved something, but not _this_. 

He wrenched his sword out of the monster’s head and reached Nines just in time to catch him when his nose started to bleed and his legs gave out on him. _This_ had never happened before. Gavin knew the fool was gonna burn himself out, _fuck_. 

“Maybe we should turn back,” Gavin said, helping Nines find his footing again. He knew Nines was gonna give him that look before it happened, that ‘nothing but the Maker him-fucking-self can stop me, and even then, it’s questionable’ look. He loved that look, stupid as it was right now.  

There was no ‘back’ to turn to at this point anyway. It was just mages and templars fighting around in every direction as far as Gavin could see. 

So they kept moving instead, toward the epicenter of the blizzard, holding hands when they could. 

It became monotonous again, the fighting felt like muscle memory, except they were fighting _together_ now, and that was way better. Templars couldn’t focus on suppressing Nines’s magic of Gavin was in their face, and whatever damage managed to sneak past Nines’s barriers was healed up the next instant. 

It felt like they were going for moments, but maybe it was hours. Gavin couldn’t really feel the cold anymore, or the burn of his tired muscles. He caught sight of Tina once or twice, it gave him a little burst of energy to know that she was okay. He spotted North once, too, flinging templars around with whips of fire. 

He was just going through the motions, it took him a moment to process when suddenly they were standing face to face with Lord Seeker Perkins. 

“That’s enough now,” the Lord Seeker said, in that obnoxiously fucking arrogant tone of voice. He was holding a catatonic Connor in front of him with a blade at his throat. 

If Jaime had looked sick, Connor looked fucking dead. He was pale as the snow, his lips were blue, his eyes were sunken and empty and white. There was a weird, iridescent dagger buried in his chest. 

“Play time’s over, Richard. The Grand Cleric wants you alive,” Perkins said, his eyes locked almost predatorily on Nines. “Surrender and come with me.”

There was a cold, detached fury in Nines’s eyes and Gavin knew without a doubt that he would be the end of the Lord Seeker if it was the last thing he did. But he couldn’t be quite yet. He couldn’t risk Connor. 

This was the part the witch had been talking about, Gavin realized. The part where Gavin had to let go. 

So when Nines looked at him he nodded, and Nines held his eyes for just a moment longer before offering his hands in surrender. 

“That’s what I thought,” Perkins fucking gloated, watching Nines approach down his nose even though he had to look up to do it. Prick. 

A few things happened in the span of a couple seconds. 

The first was that Gavin noticed Perkins’s other hand wasn’t on Connor. He didn’t have to hold Connor still, Connor wouldn’t move. 

The second was that Nines’s eyes flicked to Connor’s face and stayed there, concern and dismay clear in his expression. He was distracted. 

The third thing was even more subtle, just a look on Perkins’s face, a shift in his posture. 

Gavin hardly processed any of it before he moved. He still hadn’t by the time he was shoving Nines out of the way. The blade that was meant for him slipped right under Gavin’s ribs instead. It was weird looking, like the one in Connor at the moment. 

It didn’t hurt so much, except when Gavin tried to breathe, so actually it hurt a lot. He could see Nines kneeling over him, his hands felt hot on Gavin’s freezing fucking face. 

He made a pretty last sight, even if he looked as openly upset as Gavin had ever seen him. 

And then Gavin blinked and Nines had a different face on, the one he was in love with. One second he was thinking, ‘Maker, I love him,’ and the next second Nines wrenched the sword out of his chest and he was thinking, ‘what the fucking hell, you crazy asshole.’ It fucking _hurt_. 

Dimly Gavin registered a wet, choked noise a little to his left. With some effort he turned to look in that direction and his gaze was met by that of Perkins’s decapitated head. The blood fountaining from his neck was crawling across the ground at Gavin like it had a mind of his own. 

He didn’t have long to look at it, to process what the fuck could have just happened, because gently Nines turned his head and guided him into a slow, sweet kiss. 

A tingling numbness spread across Gavin’s chest, but he didn’t afford it much thought, he was much too focused on every single second of Nines’s warm mouth on his- he was _so_ warm- and wishing nothing more than for this to be his last moment alive. 

Nines pulled away, his hand lingering a second longer on Gavin’s face, _Maker_ he was so fucking beautiful. Gavin loved him _so_ much. 

Lucidity returned to him fully just in time for him to watch with painful clarity as Nines plunged the weird looking sword into his own chest. 

 

“Are you quite done?” It asked evenly, hands wrapped around his throat. It didnt squeeze, it only seemed to want him to know it could. 

Connor didn’t want to admit it, but there was little else he could do. He was tired, he was freezing, he was bested. 

It hadn’t been anything approaching an even match, really. This creature possessing him had to be truly ancient, its power seemed endless. 

The passage of time was imperceptible in this fabricated garden. Perhaps that’s why Connor felt he could afford to wonder, even with the demon poised to kill him, just how old it was, and where it had come from. Had it consumed the grief of Andraste’s followers as they watched her burn? Had it witnessed and reveled in the fall of the elven kingdom of Arlathan? Had it seen the world nearly destroyed by the first Blight, had it watched the old Magisters corrupt heaven with their hubris? What primordial despair had manifested it? 

But Markus had said that demons were all once benevolent spirits. It wasn’t despair that had created this creature, only ruined it. What had it been before? What had turned it into this? 

Connor felt akin to it, in a way. It seemed circumstance had twisted them both into something other than what they wanted to be. He’d been raised into a tool and he’d hurt so many people. 

Hank had showed him, though, that it didn’t have to be that way. He could think and act for himself, he didn’t have to hurt anyone if he didn’t want to. Connor thought about Hank, and simply being around Hank, how happy it made him. Happier than his status, his achievements, happier than Amanda’s empty pride. 

He didn’t want to be anybody’s weapon, he wanted to be good like Hank. He wanted to be worthy of Hank. 

Did the demon feel that way sometimes too? Did it wish it could be good again? Connor’s eyes landed on the ethereal dagger in its chest. Perhaps there was something it couldn’t let go of, perhaps it was afraid like he was. Maybe it just needed somebody like Hank, to tell it that it could be good. 

Connor didn’t think he could be that person very successfully. He was still struggling to find his own footing. But they were tied together, quite possibly irreversibly at this point. Could that be enough? 

Wordlessly Connor reached up and grasped the dagger. The demon was watching him, it’s expression pensive and conflicted, surely reading his thoughts. 

They didn’t have to be like this. They could be better together. They could be _good_ together. Connor tried to think it with conviction, to _feel_ it, to mean it, as if that might heal the demon of the darkness that had tainted it. 

He didn’t even have to pull the dagger out, it shattered and turned to dust in his hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
